Forever Tomorrow: Perceptions
by CheleSedai
Summary: An Immortal with a vendetta has her sites set on the Tomorrow People. Can they trust another of her kind to help and protect them? Second of the Forever Tomorrow series.


Perceptions  
by Michele R. Mason  
  
First the Disclaimer: If you recognize them, they don't belong   
to me. The characters of Richie Ryan, Duncan MacLeod, Tessa   
Noel, Joe Dawson, and the concept of Immortality and the   
Watchers do not belong to me. Neither do the characters of   
Adam Newman, Ami Jackson, Megabyte Damon, Jade Weston,   
General Bill Damon, or Frank, or the Tomorrow People. These   
characters belong to Panzer/Davis, Rhysher/Gaumont   
Television, Roger Damon Price, Thames/Tetra and ITV   
television respectively. I use them here without   
permission, but not for profit. Feel free to print this out   
for personal use, but it is not to be archived anywhere   
without my permission. (This excludes the TPFICT archives,   
the HLFIC-L archives, and the Highlander fiction   
www.seventhdimension.com archive.)  
  
Thanks for taking time to read this tale.   
  
As always, feedback, questions, and comments are welcome.  
Michele R Mason  
  
***********  
  
Perceptions  
By Michele R Mason  
Chapter One  
  
London had its charm.   
  
It didn't have the magical romance of Paris, but it had a   
certain elegance and charm that cried out to be noticed.   
While not flamboyant like the streets and people of Paris,   
there was a certain mystery and unique flavor to the city   
that was unlike anything that Corey Lyle had ever   
experienced. Of course, that only made sense because Corey   
Lyle didn't really exist; Corey Lyle, a collection of   
papers and documents and credit cards, had never   
experienced anything in his life.  
  
Standing beneath Cleopatra's needle, feeling the faint rays   
of sunlight brushing his shoulders, Richie Ryan found   
himself smiling. He still didn't know where or how Mac and   
Joe, his mentor and friend, had gotten the identity of   
Corey Lyle, but Richie had found it quite easy to settle   
into the demeanor of the traveling university student. He   
liked Corey Lyle more than he liked even Richard Redstone,   
the last identity he had used in Europe. Richard Redstone   
was wealthy and flamboyant; a ladies' man and a   
millionaire. Richard Redstone attracted attention--Corey   
Lyle moved through the London streets like a phantom,   
invisible and unnoticed.  
  
When you're Immortal, invisible and unnoticed are pretty   
good things to be.  
  
Of course, if you'd listened to Mac, you could still be   
Richie Ryan, a nagging little voice inside his head   
reminded him.  
  
The reminder made Richie wince. If he allowed his mind to   
stray too far, to remember too long, he would still feel   
the flames eating away his flesh, he would still smell the   
acrid stench of gasoline and burning skin and hair. Dying   
in a motorcycle accident wouldn't have been bad; but dying   
the way he did, burning and suffocating-- well, it had been   
enough to teach him a lesson about pushing the limits of   
his Immortality. Richie Ryan "died" in Paris, France from a   
motorcycle collision; he still kept the obituary as a   
common sense reminder to take better care of himself.  
  
The slight rumbling of his stomach pulled Richie from his   
thoughts and his admiration of Cleopatra's Needle. Mac   
always teased him about his stomach, but Richie didn't see   
anything wrong with having a healthy appetite. Shoving his   
hands in his pockets, he turned and headed up the stairs,   
feeling the weight of his sword press against him   
underneath the long leather coat. The movement of the sword   
beneath his clothing was another constant reminder of who   
and what he was.  
  
Immortal. He would live forever. Well, that's if another   
one of his kind didn't come along and lop of his head. That   
was the problem with being an Immortal--it was a constant   
race to remain alive. The sword was there for protection,   
part of the ages old code of how Immortals were supposed to   
duel. One to one, no witnesses, only with swords and to the   
death. Richie never went anywhere without it; it was as   
much a part of him as his heart or lungs. It was a constant   
echo of what separated him from those around him.  
  
"Oh!" The sharp exclamation came as he very nearly walked   
into someone attempting to navigate their way down the same   
flight of steps he was walking up.   
  
Richie caught her by the arms, steadying himself as well   
before they both went tumbling backwards. "Sorry about   
that, are you--"  
  
The words froze in his throat. The face he stared down at   
was familiar. Richie didn't know whether to worry or be   
pleased by the coincidence. In his experience, there really   
wasn't such a creature as coincidence.  
  
Familiar sooty dark eyes stared up at him from her youthful   
face. The same mesmerizing eyes from the airport not a day   
earlier; the same sculpted features, the same halo of   
hundreds of plaited braids. The same dark skinned beauty   
that had so poignantly reminded him of his own eternal   
youth.  
  
"You again!" She smiled at him, her voice ringing in   
laughter.  
  
"Yeah, small world." Richie returned her smile easily. "We   
really have to stop meeting like this."  
  
"Well, you were here first." She extended her hand, her   
smile lighting up her eyes. "Ami."  
  
Her hand was warm and soft, like her eyes and her smile.   
"Richie."  
  
Too late, he realized what he had said; too late, he   
realized that he had given her his real name and not his   
assumed identity. Richie gave himself a mental cuff, and   
wondered what Mac would think.   
  
He'd think that a pretty face has robbed you of your   
senses, Richie answered his own question the moment that he   
asked it. A pretty face that is way, way too young for you.   
Get a grip, Ryan.  
  
Despite his self-chastisement, Richie didn't release her   
hand. He didn't want to release her hand. "Do you always   
talk to strange tourists on the streets?"  
  
"Only the ones I bump into."  
  
"Have you had lunch yet?" Again, Richie's mouth was about   
five minutes ahead of his brain. No, it wasn't his mouth   
that was causing him problems; it was simple nineteen-year-  
old physiology. Ami was pretty, clearly intelligent--  
  
--and clearly too young for you. Do the words 'cradle   
robber' mean anything to you?  
  
"Actually, no, but--" Ami paused, throwing a meaningful   
glance over his shoulder. "I'm meeting my Mum for lunch."  
  
Richie followed her gaze until it came to rest on the older   
woman who clearly had to be her mother. The woman sat on a   
stone bench, reading a magazine. She would occasionally   
look up, then pretend to be utterly engrossed in the   
magazine again. Catching the young Immortal looking at her,   
she snapped the magazine closed and returned his gaze   
levelly. Richie could feel her eyes examining him even from   
the distance, and he could tell by the twitch to the   
corners of her mouth that he didn't exactly measure up.  
  
As he met Ami's gaze again, she smiled apologetically. "I'm   
late as it is. She hates it when I'm late." She crinkled   
her nose attractively and sighed, lowering her voice   
although it was clear her mother was too far away to hear   
her words. "She's overprotective, too. Worries too much   
about me."  
  
"That's what mothers do." As he said it, he felt a stab of   
pain and Tessa's face swam in his memory. She was the   
closest thing he'd had to a mother; it was odd how he   
remembered Tessa at the oddest times, and how much the   
remembrances still hurt.  
  
"It was nice meeting you again, Richie."  
  
The feeling descended on him suddenly. The all too familiar   
sensation that touched every fiber of his being. The   
feeling that was both inside of him and outside of him at   
the same moment. Every muscle, every nerve tensed with   
readiness as he noted the ~Presence~ of another Immortal.   
His heart pounded, his muscles tensed and the adrenaline   
pumped into his bloodstream. The vague pressure built up   
inside his head, not unlike a swarm of bees buzzed around   
behind his eyes; it was more than enough to distract him   
from the young woman before him.  
  
He smiled as graciously as he could, trying to scan the   
ebbing tide of people without appearing to do so. "It was   
nice bumping into you, too."  
  
If she suspected something, she gave no sign of it. With a   
final smile, and words he didn't quite hear, she glided   
down the stairs toward her mother.  
  
The buzz was fading as he turned away from her and melted   
into the crowd. He supposed that he could simply walk in   
the other direction and not worry about it. After all, his   
plane was leaving tomorrow--he could avoid another Immortal   
if he wanted to.   
  
But Richie knew first hand what some of his kind were like.   
He couldn't risk the idea that an unknown Immortal had seen   
him talking to Ami. If they had, she could become a target;   
they could think that she meant something to Richie, that   
she was a close and personal acquaintance.   
  
No, he had to find the source of that fading awareness that   
Immortals referred to as "the buzz."  
  
It intensified as he neared an office building. The door   
was just swinging closed, and he slipped quickly inside   
before it closed all the way.   
  
Inside the building, the buzz ebbed and flared, but it   
wasn't hard for Richie to track its source to the roof of   
the building.   
  
Brilliant, fiery red hair cascaded over the leather-clad   
shoulders of the figure leaning over the edge of the   
building. Richie had to stifle a gasp as he noticed the   
high-powered rifle she had aimed at the square below.  
  
"They make shooting ranges for that."  
  
"I don't have any battles with you." The accent was   
melodical, mixed with different countries and languages,   
but strongly accented with Irish. She didn't even have the   
dignity to look at him. "Go away."  
  
"Richie Ryan."  
  
"I don't care who you are. Leave me to my business, and   
I'll leave you to yours." She calmly began to load the   
rifle.  
  
Richie didn't think twice.   
  
In a few fluid movements, his sword was in his hands,   
pressed against her neck. Richie didn't really want to   
fight her. And certainly not in broad daylight on the   
rooftop of a downtown London building, but people who aimed   
high powered rifles into crowds of unarmed civilians   
weren't normally the sort you exchanged phone numbers and   
recipes with. "Don't make me do this."  
  
He underestimated her. Her calmness and callous disregard   
for his presence should have warned him that this was no   
ordinary woman. He was still on his back wheezing from   
several sharp kicks to his sternum and kidneys when she   
pressed her booted heel into the palm of his hand and aimed   
the rifle at his face. Her eyes were a still, cold gray-  
blue like the sky before a storm. "At this range, Richie   
Ryan, I think that even a high powered rifle could remove   
your head. Easy Quickening."  
  
To punctuate her words, she dug in her heel. The pain   
shooting through his hand and arm made Richie wince   
although he didn't cry out. "Don't get in my way again,   
little boy. Fire burns."  
  
With those words, she turned and fled the rooftop.  
  
Nursing his broken, but slowly healing ribs, Richie   
realized he was in no condition to follow and challenge   
her.  
  
Instead, he lugged himself to the edge of the building to   
see precisely who or what she had been aiming at.  
  
When his eyes made contact, his blood froze in his veins.  
  
From where he leaned, he had a perfectly clear view of Ami   
and her mother.  
  
Richie sunk back against the wall. Something told him that   
he was not getting on that plane tomorrow.  
  
End of Chapter One  
  
******  
  
Perceptions  
Chapter Two  
By Michele R Mason  
  
Holding the telephone to his ear, Richie cursed silently as   
he listened to the insistent ringing halfway around the   
world. Where was Joe when he needed him? There was an   
Immortal in London, who for some inexplicable reason wanted   
to kill an innocent mortal, and of course, Joe wasn't   
around to give the information he desperately needed.  
  
Be fair, Richie scolded himself as the telephone reached   
its tenth ring. Joe isn't supposed to give you any   
information at all. You're not even supposed to know he   
exists. And he is allowed to have a life.  
  
Joseph Dawson was a Watcher. A high-ranking member of an   
elite organization which observed and recorded the actions   
and lives of Immortals. They lived by a code almost as   
strict as that which Immortals followed: Watchers observed   
and recorded, but never interfered. Immortals didn't even   
know the civilian historians, scholars, and amateur snoops   
existed. Well, most Immortals didn't, because most Watchers   
stuck to their centuries old rules and code. However, Joe   
Dawson, Watcher of Duncan MacLeod, had broken those rules   
quite a while back and continued to do so with amazing   
regularity.  
  
Of course, it wasn't as if Joe had any choice in the   
matter. Not originally. Richie's teacher and mentor,   
Duncan, had learned of the existence of the Watchers by   
accident. A renegade Watcher, James Horton, who believed   
that Immortals were abominations and the scrounge of the   
earth, had killed a very old, very close friend of   
MacLeod's. On Holy ground no less. Not even an Immortal   
would have done that.  
  
Thus was the rather shaky and gruesome start of a   
constantly shifting friendship between the Immortal and his   
Watcher. Richie had been a little nervous at first; he   
didn't like the thought of being in close contact with   
someone who knew his secret, who knew how to kill him, who   
belonged to an organization that had held James Horton in   
high esteem and respect. Particularly when the James Horton   
had also been the brother-in-law of Joe Dawson. But time   
had changed his opinion; Joe had saved his life, and he   
considered the man a close friend--even if other Watchers   
still gave him the willies.  
  
Right as Richie prepared to return the telephone to the   
cradle, the ringing stopped.  
  
"Hello?"   
  
"Joe? It's Richie."  
  
"Richie?" The young Immortal could almost see the color   
fading from the other's face. "Is something wrong? What's   
happened?"  
  
"Well, nothing's happened yet." Richie sat down on the bed,   
already feeling some sense of calm knowing that Joe was on   
the other end of the telephone. "I ran into an Immortal   
today. A woman."  
  
"Yes?" Joe was waiting. Richie recognized the familiar,   
patient lull in the other's voice.  
  
"I didn't kill her Joe. I didn't even fight her." Richie   
paused, replaying the scene slowly in her mind. "It was   
weird. She was some sort of assassin, I think."  
  
"Assassin?" Joe's voice rose in curiosity. "Last I checked   
there weren't any Immortals in London working as assassins.   
You are still in London, right?"  
  
"Yeah. But, Joe, she wasn't trying to assassinate any big   
political figures. She was trying to kill a teenage girl."  
  
"Are you sure that was her target?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm positive. I managed to stop her, but I don't   
think that she'll give up."  
  
"Did you get her name?"  
  
Richie shook his head in defeat, although he knew the   
Watcher couldn't see the motion. "No. But she's a redhead;   
blue eyes. A little taller than me, willow, slim."  
  
"Richie, you aren't going after this woman are you?"  
  
"Joe, she's trying to kill a mortal. A very young mortal. I   
have to find out what she's up to." Richie paused again,   
looking down at the hotel notepad he had been scribbling   
on. A name stared back up at him. A-M-Y. "Hey, Joe, you'll   
look into it, right?"  
  
"Yeah, Rich. I'll look into it. But until I find out who   
this woman is, and what she's up to, you should probably   
stay out of her way."  
  
"Way ahead of you."  
  
"There's something else isn't there?"  
  
Richie nodded. "The girl, the one this woman was trying to   
kill. I know who she is."  
  
"I might have guessed."  
  
"It's not what you think. I just wanted you to check and   
see if you could find out why someone would want to kill   
her."  
  
"Does she have a name?"  
  
"Ami."  
  
"Ami?"  
  
Richie tried to ignore the heat rising to his cheeks. "I   
don't know her last name."  
  
"That's not a lot to go on." Joe sighed heavily. "But I   
suppose that one of my people probably saw her with you--I   
assume she was with you at some point or you wouldn't know   
her name?"  
  
"I bumped into her at the airport and later by Cleopatra's   
needle."  
  
"You bumped twice into a mysterious girl who just happens   
to be the target of an attempted assassination?" Joe   
whistled softly. "Richie, doesn't that strike you as bit   
more than coincidence?"  
  
"Joe, please. Just look into it."  
  
"All right, fine. But you watch your head. I'll call you   
back as soon as I have something."  
  
After he hung up with Joe, Richie noticed that he was even   
tenser than before. Joe's words echoed in his head. 'You   
bumped twice into a mysterious girl who just happens to be   
the target of an attempted assassination?'  
  
No, Richie didn't believe in coincidences of that   
magnitude.  
  
Grabbing his sword and his jacket, he left the hotel.  
  
With any luck, Ami would still be at Cleopatra's Needle.  
  
End of Chapter Two  
  
*****  
  
Perceptions  
Chapter Three  
By Michele R Mason  
  
"So, now that we've managed to discuss everything under the   
sun from politics to philosophy, do you want to tell me who   
that young man was?"   
  
Ami Jackson lifted her dark eyes from her empty dessert   
plate and smiled brightly at her mother. "What young man,   
Mum?"  
  
"Don't you even try to get all cute with me, young lady."   
Her mother was not to be distracted. Of course, once her   
mother got an idea into her head, she didn't allow herself   
to be budged.   
  
With a heavy sigh, Ami tried to remind herself that her   
mother only badgered her so much because she worried about   
her. It didn't matter that Ami had just celebrated her   
eighteenth birthday, or that she knew Ami was capable of   
taking care of herself. In Sharon Jackson's eyes, Ami would   
always be her "baby girl" and would always need protection   
and guidance.   
  
The problem was that her mother couldn't protect her from   
everything. And most of the time, her mother couldn't   
provide the particular sort of guidance and advice that Ami   
needed. There had been a time in her life when her mother   
had been the sole source of both of those things, but that   
had all changed the day she met Adam Newman and Megabyte   
Damon. That had changed the day that Ami learned that she   
wasn't destined to be normal or live a normal life.  
  
They were The Tomorrow People, the next step in human   
evolution. She had met Adam and Megabyte when she began   
receiving clairvoyant impressions from their sick friend   
Kevin. Drawn into the puzzle and mystery of Kevin's   
illness, she had quickly come to learn that there was   
nothing normal about the tall Australian or the red-haired   
American. And that she was non-normal as they were.  
  
Their abilities to teleport, moving instantly from one   
place to another in the blinking of an eye, and their   
telepathic powers made them targets for any government   
agency or scientist who wanted to shove them in a lab and   
study them like rats. It also gave them a particular   
awareness of the world around them-- knowing and noticing   
things that the majority of the population would never   
know. And that the majority of the population was better   
off not knowing.  
  
That was what had attracted her to Richie at the airport.   
He was different. He felt different to her psychic   
awareness. With most people, there was only the faintest   
mental impression, or the occasional image or thought   
escaping them and coming to surface in her mind. It   
happened almost every day, and the Tomorrow People were   
used to it, calling it "background noise." But Richie's   
signature had been significantly different; it was   
stronger, more powerful, all the while being elusive. For a   
moment, she had thought that the blue-eyed strawberry   
blonde was one of them, but then she noticed the subtle   
fluctuations in his psychic aura.   
  
And she had never sensed anything like it before.  
  
Ami had all but forgotten about it when she ran into him on   
the steps in front of Cleopatra's Needle.   
  
She had the strangest feeling that Richie wasn't at all   
what he appeared to be.   
  
Ami didn't think that he was dangerous; she had some inner   
gut instinct that told her he wouldn't harm her or the   
Tomorrow People. But, running into him twice in the span of   
a few days couldn't be all coincidence.  
  
However, she couldn't explain any of that to her mother.  
  
Instead, she gave her mother the most reassuring smile that   
she could. "Mum, it's nothing. I told you, we bumped into   
each other and he was apologizing."  
  
"That was a rather lengthy apology, Ami." Sharon Jackson   
folded her arms across her chest. "This isn't some Tomorrow   
People business that you're hiding from me, is it?"  
  
Ami could never lie to her mother. She hated that. It would   
have been a handy talent to have when these conversations   
came up. "Yes, it is Tomorrow People business. But it isn't   
dangerous, I promise you."  
  
"But you can't tell me what it is?"  
  
"Mum," Ami spoke with exasperation. She had grown tired of   
these conversations years ago. Once her mother realized   
that she couldn't ground her to prevent her from spending   
time with Adam and Megabyte, she had actually gotten to   
know the young men; but she hadn't stopped worrying. And   
her mother didn't hesitate to take every opportunity to   
remind Ami's fellow Tomorrow People that she worried.  
  
Sometimes, Ami envied Megabyte. For all the disagreements   
and disappointments he had with his father, General Damon   
accepted Megabyte's status as a Tomorrow Person. He   
accepted the Tomorrow People, and even occasionally aided   
them or provided them with information, albeit grudgingly.  
  
"Mum. It's fine, I promise you."  
  
Her mother stared at her for what seemed an endless moment.   
Then with some trepidation, she finally nodded. "All right,   
then. I'm taking your word for it, Ami. Now, let's talk   
about what you're going to wear to your cousin Megan's   
wedding."  
  
With a roll of her eyes, Ami nodded. Anything had to be   
better than talking about the Tomorrow People and the   
mysterious Richie.  
  
End of Chapter Three  
  
******  
  
Perceptions  
Chapter Four  
By Michele R Mason  
  
Somebody upstairs likes me, Richie thought with a bright   
smile as he spotted Ami and her mother walking down the   
busy London street.   
  
After leaving the hotel, Richie headed straight back to   
Cleopatra's Needle. Of course, as luck would have it, Ami   
was gone. He waited, and waited, and when she didn't   
return, he decided to stop for the day. He stopped at a   
small café, grabbed lunch, and was strolling back to his   
hotel when he spotted the young woman weaving through the   
crowd across the street.  
  
He followed them at a discreet distance, wondering what he   
would say to her if he received the opportunity to speak to   
her. Somehow, "Hey, do you know why someone wants to kill   
you?" didn't sound like one of the best openings for   
broaching the subject.  
  
They wandered into a used bookstore, and Richie heard   
opportunity knocking.  
  
Loudly.  
  
He found Ami in a far corner, browsing through a book of   
Shakespeare's sonnets.  
  
"My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun," Richie quoted.  
  
Ami looked up, her eyes widening, startled by his sudden   
appearance. She smiled, closing the book and placing it   
back on the shelf. "Richie. Again."  
  
"Small world." Richie motioned toward the book, "You like   
Shakespeare?"  
  
"I like literature." She gave him a long, curious stare.   
"Are you following me?"  
  
"Don't believe in coincidence, huh?"   
  
"Not three times consecutively. No." Her eyes narrowed   
slowly, her expression becoming guarded. "What do you-- why   
are you following me?"  
  
'Because there's an Immortal who wants to kill you and I   
want to know why,' didn't sound exactly like the   
appropriate answer. Richie shrugged, feigning indifference,   
and gave her a smile. "Would you believe that it's because   
I want to have dinner with you?"  
  
It wasn't exactly a lie. Just an omission of the truth.   
Actually having dinner with her was a very appealing idea.   
More than appealing.   
  
"Are you asking me out to dinner?" She seemed surprised by   
this turn of events. It was hard for him to imagine that   
invitations like this weren't the norm for her.   
  
"Unless you have something against Americans."  
  
"Only the ones that follow me into bookstores," Ami shook   
her head, long braids brushing her shoulders, and headed   
further up the aisle. Richie noticed that she cast a   
sideways glance back at him, and took that as an invitation   
to follow.  
  
"Is that a yes or a no?" He fell into step behind her.  
  
The young woman spun to face him. "I don't even know you."   
  
"That's why we have dinner. I get to know you. You get to   
know me…"  
  
"I -- I can't." Ami turned again, ready to head away, but   
this time he was faster.   
  
Richie slipped in front of her impeding her progress. "It's   
the haircut, isn't it? You know, I told Mac that women just   
don't like the haircut, and he told me I was wrong. He's my   
best friend, and he lied to me. I can't believe it." Richie   
leaned against the bookcase, doing his best to look   
chagrined.  
  
"It's not the haircut."  
  
Richie straightened up, and looked down at himself. Wearing   
a long leather jacket and faded jeans, he definitely was   
not one of Calvin Klein's latest models. "The jacket? It's   
the jacket isn't it? I can get rid of it--"  
  
Ami giggled, a smile appearing on her face. "It's not the   
jacket."  
  
"It's not the haircut, or the jacket?"  
  
"No."  
  
Richie scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You just don't   
like Americans?"  
  
"One of my best friends is American," Ami rolled her eyes   
and shook her head. "You're good."  
  
"That means you'll have dinner with me?"   
  
"I don't know you. You could be a crazy, psychotic serial   
killer who--who-- chops his victims up and buries them in   
the backyard."  
  
"Considering my backyard is an alley back in the States,   
you don't really have to worry about that."  
  
"Are you always this insistent?"  
  
"Only when I see something I really want. And I really,   
really want to have dinner with you."  
  
She folded her arms across her chest, staring at him.   
Finally, she smiled. "Fine, but on one condition."  
  
"Anything?"  
  
"You don't follow me anymore."  
  
Richie smiled. To the victor go the spoils. "Consider it   
done."  
  
End of Chapter Four  
  
*****  
Chapter Five  
  
Of the two young men seated on opposite sides of the   
chessboard, only one looked up when Ami appeared in the   
space where only a few moments before there had been empty   
air.  
  
"Hello, Ami." Adam greeted her with a smile and a nod.  
  
"Hey Ami." Megabyte threw his hand in the air, giving her a   
half-wave. He didn't look around or pull his eyes from the   
chessboard. Biting his lip in concentration, the   
American's hand hovered over various chess pieces as he   
debated which to move.  
  
Ami dropped to her knees between her two fellow Tomorrow   
People. "Who's winning?"  
  
Megabyte snorted. "As if you really have to ask?"  
  
"With a self-defeatist attitude like that, it's no wonder   
Adam usually wins."  
  
Megabyte ignored her. Mumbling something unintelligible   
under his breath, he moved his bishop.  
  
Ami gave the chessboard a cursory glance and cringed.   
Megabyte had just handed the game to Adam.  
  
"Sorry, Megabyte." Adam offered his apology as he moved his   
piece. "Checkmate."  
  
"I must be a glutton for punishment," the redhead grumbled.  
  
"Another game?" Adam offered.  
  
Megabyte rolled his eyes. "Right, Adam. Allow me to escape   
with at least some of my dignity." He turned his attention   
to Ami. "So, what are you doing here, anyway?"  
  
"Thanks, Megabyte." Ami gave him a slightly exasperated   
shake of her head. "It's always a pleasure to know that I'm   
welcome here."  
  
The boy paled, then turned a light shade of pink. "That's   
not what I meant. I just meant that I thought you were   
having lunch with your Mum."  
  
"We did have lunch. Now we're done." Ami settled back on   
her haunches. "I did want to talk to you guys about   
something though."  
  
The seriousness of her tone caught both of their attention.  
  
Adam nodded, giving her his full attention. "Sure, Ami.   
What's the problem?"  
  
"I met this boy today--"  
  
Megabyte snickered. "Sorry, Ami. Shouldn't you gossip with   
Jade?"  
  
"Megabyte, I'm serious. This is important."  
  
Adam gave their friend a dark glare. "Go on, Ami. Just   
ignore Megabyte if he can't be serious for a few minutes."  
  
"He seems nice enough and all but…there's something about   
him. Something different."  
  
Adam shifted, his shoulders tensing slightly. "Different   
how? You think he might be one of us?"  
  
"No," Ami shook her head, once again struggling to wrap her   
mind around the elusive psychic signature she received from   
Richie. "He's not a Tomorrow Person. I'm not sure what it   
is, I mean, maybe it's nothing."  
  
"Or maybe it's something," Adam interjected. "If it has you   
worried, it shouldn't be ignored."  
  
"I'm not really worried. It's just a little odd." Ami   
paused. "I was wondering if you guys would mind meeting   
him? Tell me if I'm totally nuts or if there's something   
else about this guy."  
  
Megabyte raised an eyebrow. "Boy, have you got it bad."  
  
Ami fought back the wave of embarrassment that washed over   
her. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Yeah, right, Ami."  
  
Adam overrode Megabyte. "Sure, Ami. We'll be glad to meet   
him. It should be interesting."  
  
"Yeah," Megabyte muttered. "Absolutely intriguing."  
  
End of Chapter Five  
  
*****  
  
Perceptions  
Chapter Six  
By Michele R Mason  
  
The telephone insistently demanded Richie's attention as he   
raced into the hotel room. Leaving the door half-open and   
nearly tripping over several pieces of furniture, he raced   
across the room and over the bed to snatch it from the   
cradle.  
  
"Hello?" Richie panted into the telephone.  
  
"Richie. It's Joe."  
  
"Oh." Richie felt his heart sink. Not that he wasn't happy   
to hear from Joe; maybe the Watcher had information. But he   
had been more hoping to hear a soft, clipped British accent   
belonging to a certain young female.  
  
"Thanks," Joe commented dryly. "I thought you wanted my   
information."  
  
"I do, Joe. I'm sorry." Richie apologized, sitting on the   
bed. "I was expecting another phone call."  
  
"Female, I suppose?" Richie could hear the laughter and   
speculation in the Watcher's voice.  
  
"Could be."  
  
There was a pause while Joe waited for more, but Richie   
refused to play the old man's game. Not today anyway.   
Finally, Joe spoke again, his tone very crisp and business-  
like. Richie could almost see the man leaning against the   
bar back in Seacouver, his face drawn into a mask of   
thoughtfulness. "There's only one Immortal in the area who   
fits your description, Richie. A woman named Maris   
Keillor."  
  
"Assassin? IRA maybe?"  
  
"No, nothing like that. She worked as a volunteer at a   
hospital a few years back -- a children's hospital. She   
also did work with orphanages. The woman loves children."  
  
"Joe, it was a high-powered rifle. Trust me on this. She   
aimed it right in my face, so I got a pretty good look at   
it. She may like kids, but she hates anyone over the age of   
thirteen."  
  
"If you say you saw her, Rich, I'll believe you. But I'm   
telling you. It doesn't make any sense. It doesn't fit her   
profile."  
  
"Then look some more. There has to be something there."  
  
"We are still looking. There are a few connections that we   
haven't checked out yet. She did work for a woman named   
Mulvaney a few years previously. Lady Mulvaney seems to   
have been under surveillance by several government   
agencies, so that might mean something."  
  
"Yeah," Richie agreed. "Like maybe that's where she got her   
rifle-training."  
  
"What about that girl you wanted me to check out? Did you   
find anything else on her?"  
  
"Yeah. I have her last name." Richie wiped the foolish grin   
off his face as he thought of Ami. "It's Jackson. Ami   
Jackson. I think she's on the up and up, though. Grounded,   
down to earth--"  
  
"Pretty?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. You should see her, Joe. She's got this smile   
that just--" the young Immortal stopped suddenly, hearing   
the light laughter on the other end of the telephone line.   
"Laugh all you want, Joe. I don't really care this time."  
  
"Seeing how you're obviously smitten beyond rational   
thought, maybe I should remind you that we know about   
Maris; we don't know about this Ami Jackson. There might be   
more to her than meets the eye. If Maris wanted to kill her   
--- there has to be a connection somewhere. So be careful."  
  
"I always am."  
  
"I'll call you back when I have more information. You will   
be there tonight?"  
  
Richie smiled brightly, although he knew the Watcher   
couldn't see him. "Well, I do have plans, but I should be   
able to pencil you in."  
  
"Watch your back, Richie."  
  
Didn't he always?  
  
End of Chapter Six  
  
****  
  
Perceptions  
Chapter Seven  
By Michele R Mason  
  
Richie leaned against the wall of the movie theatre. He   
resisted the urge to check his watch, knowing that he was   
early anyway. The thing was, he was feeling like he was   
back in high school again--and terrified that Ami might   
decide not to show up after all. He kept telling himself   
that his reasons for being here were purely innocent. If   
Joe was right, and the mysterious Immortal was Maris   
Keillor, and Maris Keillor wasn't the sort to decide to   
assassinate innocent civilians, then there was definitely   
more going on here than met the eye. That was what he tried   
to tell himself.  
  
The truth wasn't quite as clear and unmuddied. From the   
first time he saw her at the airport, Richie Ryan had been   
attracted to Ami. He didn't know why; she couldn't have   
been more than a day over nineteen, and she wasn't his   
normal type. She wasn't worldly and experienced but she had   
a certain charm that made it hard for him to think   
straight.  
  
Richie realized he was smiling like a lunatic and wiped the   
smile from his face.   
  
Ami had made the arrangements. He was to meet her here   
where she had already planned to enjoy the evening with   
some of her friends. Richie would have preferred to meet   
her alone; at least then, he might have been able to figure   
out some way to broach the subject of Maris. But, if this   
built her trust in him, then this would be an important   
first step.  
  
He was, however, growing increasingly impatient. And he was   
just about to think that he'd mixed up Ami's clearly worded   
instructions when laughter made him turn his head. And once   
again, his breath caught.  
  
Ami raised her hand in a wave, flanked on both sides by her   
friends. Two male, and one female, and all of them not a   
day over twenty. No, Richie had to reconsider as they   
neared, the boy on Ami's left, tall and thin with dark   
hair, seemed to be the oldest of the group; in fact, Richie   
might have placed his age a few years above Ami's, and   
certainly several years above the young blonde who giggled   
on Ami's right.  
  
"Richie, sorry we're late," Ami smiled at him as the group   
halted in a small semi-circle around him.   
  
"It was my fault," the blonde shrugged, smiling. "I   
couldn't find anything to wear."  
  
"It's a movie, Jade. It's dark. Who cares what you're   
wearing?" That came from the redhead in the group. His   
American accent took Richie by surprise.  
  
That must be Ami's American best friend.  
  
"Guys," Ami looked back and forth between the young blonde,   
Jade, and the unnamed redhead. "Please."  
  
"While they're going for one another's throats, I'm Adam."   
The tall dark haired young man held his hand out to Richie.   
"And you're Richie."  
  
Richie shook his hand hesitantly. Not out of fear, but   
again he was caught by surprise. He wasn't particularly   
good with accents, but Adam's didn't sound very English,   
Scottish, Irish…or anything in their area. "You're not from   
around here?"  
  
It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn   
that Adam frowned slightly when their hands met. It passed   
so quickly though that Richie wondered if he had been   
imagining things after all.  
  
"He's quick," the redhead quipped.  
  
From the corner of his eye, Richie saw Jade give him a   
sharp poke in the ribs.  
  
Adam ignored them both. "No. I'm from Australia."   
  
Richie filed the information for later use. There was   
definitely more here than met the eye. Two British girls,   
one Australian, and one American made quite a mismatched   
group. And their ages--the blonde had to be fourteen, maybe   
fifteen. Richie didn't recall hanging around with very many   
fourteen-year-olds when he was eighteen-- and he certainly   
would lose patience with one these days.   
  
"And that's Jade, and that's Megabyte," Ami continued the   
introductions.  
  
"Megabyte?" Richie repeated the name slowly.  
  
"It's a nickname." The challenging look the younger boy   
shot him dared him to question it.  
  
Richie didn't plan to question anything. Not yet at least.   
For the time being, this group would be interesting to   
watch.  
  
Very interesting.  
  
End of Chapter Seven  
  
*****  
Perceptions  
Chapter Eight  
By Michele R Mason  
  
"So, what are you doing in England anyway?"  
  
Richie was beginning to grow accustomed to Megabyte's   
bluntness. After the movie, the group headed over to the   
coffeehouse where they now found themselves, and the young   
American had made it plainly clear that Richie was not only   
not welcome, but not trusted either. However, Adam and Jade   
didn't seem to mind his presence, and they, along with Ami,   
made every attempt to make him feel welcome. For the most   
part it worked, although at times he got the peculiar   
feeling that there were things going on he couldn't see;   
several times it seemed almost as if the four knew what the   
others were thinking or were going to say long before the   
words left their lips. That sort of behavior Richie   
expected from old married couples -- not a group of young   
adults.  
  
"What Megabyte means is, 'Why are you visiting London?' "   
Ami shot the redhead a very dangerous glare which Richie   
hoped never to be on the receiving end of.   
  
Richie liked her, a little more than he wanted to. A little   
bit more than was considered wise. Particularly when he   
didn't know why Maris Keillor was after her, or whether or   
not it was merely coincidence that he encountered her twice   
since arriving in London. Coincidence or not, Richie   
couldn't deny the attraction to her; he could almost hear   
Joe and Mac teasing him about being suckered in by another   
pretty face.   
  
He kept trying to tell himself that she was only eighteen,   
that this wasn't a road he wanted to travel, but his heart   
and libido decided that his brain had clearly taken leave   
of its senses, and set out to ignore any rational thought   
or argument he sent in that direction.   
  
Richie smiled, probably foolishly, because he realized that   
he had been staring at her in silence for the space of a   
few breaths after she uttered her question. "I was   
delivering something for a friend."  
  
"What?" Jade's couched her question in genuine curiosity   
and interest, not the suspicious tones he had become   
accustomed to hearing Megabyte use.  
  
"He used to be an antiques dealer. He still purchases and   
sells antiques, so he had me drop a piece off to a dealer   
here in London."   
  
Megabyte scoffed. It didn't surprise Richie. The boy seemed   
determined to counter every word that Richie spoke.   
"Antiques? What's the point? It's all old junk."  
  
"Megabyte, antiques are a part of history." Adam stirred at   
his coffee thoughtfully. "If people didn't preserve them,   
we would lose a lot of history."  
  
"Yeah, Adam. Whatever."  
  
"Where are you from, Richie?" Jade continued her line of   
questioning. "New York? Los Angeles?"  
  
Richie had to laugh. Why was it that it seemed as though   
everyone thought the only cities Americans came from were   
New York or LA? "Actually, I'm from Seacouver."  
  
"Seacouver?" Megabyte questioned. "Nothing big about   
Seacouver."  
  
"I've heard there's nothing big about Vermont either." Jade   
remarked tartly.  
  
Richie definitely wondered about the group dynamics at work   
here.  
  
"Are you going back to Seacouver soon?" Ami's voice drew   
his attention.  
  
Somewhat reluctantly, Richie nodded. "In a few days. I was   
supposed to leave tomorrow--"  
  
"Why aren't you?" Megabyte interjected.  
  
"--But I decided to take a few extra days and see London."   
It took Richie a good deal of self-control to ignore the   
younger boy and keep speaking. "Maybe you can suggest some   
good sights to see?"  
  
"I could show you around," Ami suggested. As she did, her   
voice dropped a few decibels, her eyes focusing on the   
tabletop.   
  
"We all could. It would be fun." Jade added, then suddenly,   
her blue eyes widened in surprise as she stared across the   
table at Adam. Her cheeks flamed red, and she quickly   
looked down at her lap. "What I meant was--well--" She   
trailed off, looking for all the world as though there were   
a million other places she would like to be at that moment.  
  
Richie looked from the tall Australian to the young girl.   
Somehow, somewhere, he was certain that he had missed   
something. Something vital and important. He understood the   
reason for Jade's words--she was behaving as if she had   
been chastised, but no one had said a word to her; no one   
had even looked at her cross-eyed.  
  
"Yeah, why not?" Richie said in the silence. "I mean, if I   
don't say yes, I'll probably just end up bumping into you   
again, right Ami?"  
  
"Or following me," she returned his smile easily.   
  
Richie decided that smile was going to be the absolute   
death of him.  
  
The remainder of the evening followed relatively   
congenially, at least as congenial as things could be with   
Megabyte doing his best to be difficult. The atmosphere was   
relaxed, and Richie found himself taking a liking to both   
Adam and Jade. However odd this group may be, his gut   
instinct told him that they belonged together.  
  
The question that continued to plague him was what could   
have attracted the attention and the hatred of an Immortal?  
  
End of Chapter Eight  
  
****  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
Leaning against the lamppost, Adam only partially listened   
to the conversation between Jade and Megabyte. If one could   
call it a conversation; Jade continued to reprimand the   
other Tomorrow Person for his rude behavior, and Megabyte   
continued to deny that he had done anything wrong.   
Occasionally Jade would ask Adam's advice, and he would   
simply nod or mutter a general answer in their direction.   
Adam had other things on his mind at the moment; things he   
would prefer not to share with the other Tomorrow People   
until he had mulled them over more.  
  
He watched as Ami talked to Richie a few feet away. She   
laughed every now and then, and would glance in the   
direction of her fellow Tomorrow People, but the distance   
was too great for him to make out the words. If Adam hadn't   
been a Tomorrow Person, if he hadn't possessed telepathy   
and empathy, he would have still be intensely aware of the   
fact that Ami was definitely taken with Richie Ryan. Now,   
that was an understatement if Adam had ever heard one.  
  
It was odd watching her. It was like watching a movie that   
he didn't quite belong in. Ami had never been the sort to   
get coy and wide-eyed or giggly around the male populace.   
Adam mostly remembered her turning away from interested   
eyes with a kind, but firm smile and blink of the eyes. It   
was funny, but he had never imagined that Ami would take an   
interest in anyone and it felt odd to see it happening. It   
was odd to see how she seemed to almost hang on every word   
Richie spoke, and how she watched him covertly when she   
thought no one else was noticing. It wasn't Ami -- but then   
again, he supposed that it was.  
  
Adam supposed that in his mind, he never imagined that the   
others would go off the deep end. Sure, Jade still harbored   
a half-felt crush on Megabyte, and Megabyte's attitude   
towards Ami at times made him wonder if the boy wasn't   
harboring a half-felt crush toward his fellow Tomorrow   
Person, but he never imagined the others would feel things   
like that. He never imagined that one day Ami, or Megabyte,   
or Jade might meet someone who affected him the same way   
Lucy Allen had; the same way a certain Scottish young woman   
had. But it was clear that he was short sighted; Richie   
Ryan held Ami by the heartstrings.  
  
And that had him worried. But not for the reasons most   
would think.  
  
"I think that you're jealous," Jade's words drifted to his   
ears.  
  
"Of what? Him? Right, Jade." Still, Megabyte's response was   
clipped.  
  
Adam turned his attention to the two. "Did you two sense   
it? What Ami was talking about?"  
  
Megabyte blinked at him. "No. Ami was probably swooning."  
  
"Are you sure you didn't feel anything unusual from   
Richie?" Adam had. Maybe it was because Ami had warned him,   
and he had been waiting for it. It was an elusive,   
nondescript feeling; different from the sense of his fellow   
Tomorrow People and a far different sense of awareness than   
that he received from non-telepaths. The psychic signature   
seemed to flare in and out, muddied, unclear and hard to   
read or pin down.   
  
"You mean his how he feels to us? Psychically?" Jade asked.  
  
Adam nodded. Jade was the youngest of the group, but she   
was learning. And, sometimes, like now, she was clearly   
more perceptive than Megabyte. "That's exactly what I   
mean."  
  
Jade pondered a moment, her blue eyes clouding. Then she   
nodded. "It's like he's there but not there. I thought that   
maybe he just has naturally strong shields."  
  
Adam considered. "It's a possibility. He might."   
  
Which worried him even more. Not only had he picked up the   
odd psychic sense from Richie, but there were also images.   
Very strange, very disturbing images that he played round   
and round with in his mind. Dark, inexplicable images.  
  
"You don't like him, do you Adam?"  
  
"You're not jealous, are you pal?" Megabyte's teasing   
laughter wavered.  
  
If he hadn't been so keenly going over his thoughts and the   
few images from Richie that plagued his mind, Adam might   
have taken that as a perfect opportunity to bait and tease   
Megabyte. As it was, he simply straightened up and shook   
his head. "No, it's nothing like that."  
  
That, in fact, was the third strike. He did like Richie.   
The young man was engaging and fun. He was worldly, and he   
got along well with them -- all of them, even Megabyte who   
did his best to be dour. His gut instinct told him that   
there was nothing about Richie not to like; his gut   
instincts told him that Richie was not a danger to him.   
Richie wasn't even an emotional danger to Ami-- the   
American clearly returned her interest.  
  
But the images and the innate knowledge Adam had gleaned   
from one handshake wouldn't disappear.  
  
Still, now wasn't quite the time to share it with the   
others. Not until he knew more.  
  
"Then what is it?" Jade asked quietly.   
  
Megabyte added, "You've been distracted for most of the   
night."  
  
"I'm just a little surprised at Ami is all." Adam gave them   
a wry smile, carefully guarding his troubled thoughts.   
"I've never seen her act like this before."  
  
"I know," Jade sighed. "Isn't it sweet?"  
  
Adam watched as Richie leaned forward and whispered in   
Ami's ear. She positively beamed at him before he waved in   
their direction and turned and headed in the opposite   
direction. Watching Ami approach, and watching Richie   
leave, Adam felt the knot in his stomach tighten.  
  
He hoped there was an explanation. He hoped the random and   
chaotic images were wrong.  
  
Because if they weren't -- then Richie Ryan wasn't what he   
appeared to be. It meant he had killed someone once -- with   
a very sharp, sharp sword.  
  
And if that were true -- Adam didn't plan to allow him   
within one hundred miles of Ami or any of the other   
Tomorrow People.  
  
End of Chapter Nine  
  
****  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
The insistent ringing of the telephone literally dragged   
Richie from the depths of sleep. Eyes partially open, he   
listened to the repeated chiming, his mind trying to come   
to grips with the reason why his answering machine didn't   
appear to be functioning. As that thought formed and   
coalesced, reality also began to take shape, and he   
remembered where he was.   
  
And why he was waiting on a telephone call.  
  
Rolling over, Richie clumsily dragged the telephone from   
the cradle and lifted it to his ear. "Hello?"  
  
"Hey, Rich. Did I wake you up?" Joe sounded far too chipper   
for it to be the middle of the night.  
  
Then again, in Seacouver, it wasn't the middle of the   
night.  
  
"No, I only sleep when the sun's up, Joe."  
  
Joe chuckled. "One good wake up call deserves another. I've   
been talking to some of our people in London."  
  
The young Immortal shook off the last remnants of sleep.   
This could be the information he had been looking for.   
Sitting up, he turned on the lamp, forcing himself to focus   
on Joe's words. "And?"  
  
"She's cute. But don't you think she's a little young,   
Richie?"  
  
The heat that Richie felt rise to his cheeks made him glad   
that the Watcher couldn't see him. He didn't even have to   
think about asking what "she" Joe referred to. Simply   
thinking about her, remembering her smile and her quiet   
melodical voice was enough to make him smile like an idiot.   
  
"She's eighteen," Richie defended himself. "She's not jail   
bait."  
  
"And you, my friend, are twenty-three. I never thought you   
were the sort to take an interest in younger women."  
  
Richie decided not to dignify the man's teasing with a   
response. Besides, Joe's reminder made him a little   
uncomfortable. He kept trying to tell himself the same   
thing-- she was too young, too inexperienced, but the more   
he repeated the litany, the more it seemed to have a   
reverse effect-- he wanted to see more of her. Ami Jackson   
intrigued him, and in many ways, she seemed a great deal   
older than her eighteen years. Still, if he didn't find out   
what Maris was up to, there wouldn't be anything for Joe to   
tease him about.  
  
"Tell me what you found out, Joe."  
  
"Nothing that makes a lot of sense." Joe paused and Richie   
could hear the shuffling of papers on the other end of the   
telephone. "Maris Keillor was born in 1371 in what is now   
Ireland. She spent her entire life helping others, although   
she does seem to adopt some rather fanatical beliefs at   
times."  
  
"In English, Joe."  
  
"She gets obsessed. And this is when her 'talents' as an   
assassin seem to come in. She has dedicated a great portion   
of her life to the pursuing Ireland's freedom. She also   
made a great many strikes against Germany in the World   
Wars. And a few times, her fanatical devotion has led her   
to side with what we would call the 'bad guys.'   
  
"Anyway, about three to four years ago, she began working   
for an international government organization that   
technically doesn't exist. The Anglo-American Alliance of   
Paranormal Investigation."  
  
Richie repeated the words slowly to himself. "The what?"  
  
"They're a secretly funded agency that investigates   
paranormal phenomenon."  
  
"Paranormal phenomenon? You mean like spaceships and   
ghosts?"  
  
"Actually, the Anglo-American Alliance is mostly military   
funded. They are more interested in things which can be   
used on a military level-- mind reading, clairvoyance,   
telepathy, telekinesis, teleportation--"  
  
Richie chuckled. "Sounds like these people could write a   
few episodes of the X-Files."  
  
"It might sound off the wall, Richie. But billions of   
dollars have gone into this organization. Someone out there   
clearly believes that these things are possible."  
  
"Hey, I know that, Joe. When I was a kid, I got really into   
a lot of that stuff. Man, I used to think that it would   
just be great to be able to teleport or move things with my   
mind," Richie remembered fondly. "I get the mind reading   
and stuff, but come on, teleportation? This isn't Star   
Trek."  
  
"Some people would say the same thing about a race of   
people who live forever and create a pyrotechnics spectacle   
when they're killed," Joe reminded him dryly.  
  
The remark sobered him, and again reminded him of why he   
was talking to Joe. "So, Maris worked for this   
organization. So what?"  
  
"Well, she was soon afterwards drafted by a woman named   
Lady Mulvaney. Mulvaney is under suspicion of working with   
foreign powers to beat the Anglo-American Alliance in   
discovering these abilities within humans, but there is no   
proof."  
  
The young Immortal reviewed the information in his head.   
"That still doesn't explain why Maris would want to kill   
Ami. Unless-- hey, Joe, did these people use like human   
subjects?" The thought of Ami being used as a lab rat   
somewhere sickened and angered him at the same time.  
  
"I'm sure they do, Richie. The psychic abilities they're   
looking for can't be found in chimps and applied later."   
Joe shifted through the papers again. "I thought of that,   
but you can put your hackles down. No where in any of my   
files does it show that Ami Jackson ever met or came into   
contact with Lady Mulvaney. She's also never met Maris, but   
Maris apparently has been putting a lot of time and effort   
into knowing everything about Ami and some of her friends."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Maris has hired private investigators. They've been   
following Ami for months. And Ami's not the only one. There   
are three others that are under her surveillance as well."  
  
Richie had the sinking feeling he knew who the three others   
were. "A blonde girl, and two boys?"  
  
"Yeah." Joe paused sharply. "How'd you know that?"  
  
"I met them tonight. Ami's friends, I mean." Richie chewed   
thoughtfully on his lip for a minute. "They're nice, but   
something about them is different. Really different; it's   
like they're not really normal teenagers. That's why I   
thought that maybe they'd been tested or used by these   
government people. But they haven't?"  
  
"There is one connection between Ami's friends and Maris,   
but it's a stretch."  
  
"What? I'll take anything you can give me, Joe."  
  
"About two and half years ago, Ami Jackson was detained for   
questioning by the local authorities."  
  
"What?" Richie thought about the young woman he'd met and   
shook his head in disbelief. "She's not like that, Joe.   
She's not--"  
  
"Let me finish, Richie. She was questioned about a   
kidnapping she had witnessed. A young boy was removed from   
his hospital room. Ami, and her two friends, the two Maris   
is watching, Adam Newman and --"  
  
"Megabyte," Richie finished.   
  
"Marmaduke Damon," Joe continued as if Richie hadn't   
spoken.  
  
Richie smirked. "Marmaduke? No wonder he goes by Megabyte."  
  
"Do you want to hear this or not?"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Well, nothing ever came of it. The boy turned up at his   
aunt's home, and the case was neatly closed and filed away   
by World Ex Securities -- "  
  
"Aren't they like the International CIA or something?"  
  
"Richie, you really should watch the news more often." Joe   
sighed. "World Ex is dedicated to maintaining international   
peace and security. At least on the surface. But yes, they   
do seem to have a lot of international connections in   
places they technically shouldn't."  
  
"So, why did World Ex get involved?"  
  
"The investigation was headed by a General William Damon."  
  
Richie made the connection. "He wouldn't be related to   
Megabyte would he?"  
  
"He's the boy's father. General Damon also worked with the   
Anglo-American Alliance for a short while."  
  
The cold hand gripping Richie's insides tightened its grip.   
The pieces were beginning to fall into place. "So, maybe   
General Damon knows Maris Keillor?"  
  
"It's a distinct possibility. But it still doesn't explain   
her behavior."  
  
"Looks like there's only one way to find out."  
  
"Richie don't do anything stupid."  
  
"Hey, Joe, you know me."  
  
"Like I said, don't do anything stupid."  
  
End of Chapter Ten  
  
*****  
  
Chapter Eleven  
  
General William Damon quietly settled into his seat, laying   
a rather thick manila folder onto the top of his desk. He   
drummed his fingers lightly on the folder, his eyes focused   
on the young man seated on the opposite side of the desk.   
"Now, Adam, do you mind telling me who this young man is,   
and why you felt it so urgently necessary that I do a   
background check on him?"  
  
Adam shifted in his seat, his dark eyes flickering toward   
the folder beneath the General's fingers. He really had not   
wanted to come to General Damon with this; whenever   
possible, it seemed best to keep the General out of the   
loop. Not because the man couldn't be trusted; the Tomorrow   
People could trust him. They could trust him to protect   
them, and shelter them and treat them like they were   
children caught in a house fire. And they could trust him   
to worry himself into a few gray hairs. No matter how many   
scrapes they got into and out of, or how many times they   
actually aided him, he still saw them as -- well, children.  
  
Unfortunately, there had been no other way to get the   
information he wanted on Richie Ryan. He was certain that   
Megabyte and Ami might have been able to dig most of it out   
via computer, but he didn't want to reveal his suspicions   
to them. After all, he kept telling himself, there was a   
good chance that those suspicions were unfounded. There   
wasn't any reason to worry anyone at the moment;   
particularly not Ami. The American with the unusual psychic   
aura had smitten his friend, and Adam didn't want to mar   
that in anyway. It was so seldom that they had the   
opportunity to be normal and to experience normal lives   
that Adam didn't want to take that away from Ami if he   
didn't have to. And she would never forgive him if he was   
wrong.  
  
"He's a friend of Ami's," Adam replied carefully. "He's   
different."  
  
"Different? Different how?"  
  
Adam shrugged. He hated to admit when he didn't have an   
answer. "I don't know. But he reads differently than other   
people."  
  
It took the General a moment to understand Adam's words.   
"You think that he's one of you?"  
  
"No," Adam answered quickly. "He's definitely not one of   
us." Then he leaned forward, indicating the folder. "I take   
it I'm not going to like what's in that report, am I   
General?"  
  
General Damon leaned back, picking up the report and   
opening it to the first page. "No, you're not. Even without   
knowing what it is you're hiding from me, and I know you're   
hiding something, I don't like what's in it myself."  
  
Adam rested his arms on the General's desk. He realized   
that if he wanted to get any answers, he was going to have   
to "come clean" as Megabyte would say. That didn't mean,   
however, that he had to tell the man everything. "It was   
just a feeling I had when I met him. That something's not   
quite right. That maybe he's not what he seems to be. And   
Ami is very fond him, so---"  
  
"So, you didn't want to spill your suspicions until you had   
verification?"   
  
Adam nodded. Sometimes, he forgot how insightful Megabyte's   
father could be. "Yes, that's it. If I'm wrong, I really   
don't think Ami would be happy with me."  
  
The Tomorrow Person knew that he didn't imagine the concern   
that clouded the General's face. He stared down at the   
folder a long moment, then looked at Adam again. "Ami's not   
in the middle of this, is she?"  
  
"No, it's nothing like that. She only met him a few days   
ago at the airport. But it's a bit obvious that she's -- "   
Adam paused, trying to find the right word. 'Crush' just   
didn't seem to fit Ami's feelings for Richie.   
  
"--Been hit hard with cupid's arrow?" General Damon   
offered.  
  
"You could say that."  
  
"In that case, you have even more reason not to like what's   
in this report." The General leaned forward, opening the   
folder and spreading its contents on the desk. On the very   
top of the pile of papers was a photocopy of a passport and   
some documents written in French. "I don't know who this   
person is, but he is not Richard Ryan."  
  
Adam stared down at the report and its contents. The face   
staring back from the passport was the same face that he   
met the day before. The hair was shorter, the features were   
somewhat harder, but if it were possible, Adam would swear   
that the face hadn't changed at all. "That's him."  
  
"That can't be him, it may be someone who looks like him.   
But it's not him." General Damon motioned to the documents   
which Adam couldn't read. "These are police, hospital, and   
coroner's reports, Adam. Richard Ryan was killed in a   
motorcycle accident in France back in 1995. He died on the   
scene, suffering from massive head trauma, internal   
bleeding, and third degree burns over ninety-three percent   
of his body.  
  
"When you gave me the name, it sounded familiar. I didn't   
know why until I saw these reports. I'd taken Megabyte down   
there to see the race trials; he had a thing about   
motorcycles back then. When we arrived, the ambulances and   
police were there. We heard that a French national and an   
American had been killed. The next day, it was in the   
papers."  
  
"General, I swear, this is the same Richie." Adam stared at   
the passport photograph. "It has to be him."  
  
"People don't survive that sort of trauma Adam. And we've   
got the documentation to prove it."  
  
"Then why would someone want to pretend to be Richie Ryan?"   
Adam put the passport copy aside, his eyes on the General.  
  
"Now that is the question, isn't it?" General Damon   
shuffled through a few more pieces of paper. He produced a   
birth certificate, and several other forms. "Richard Ryan   
was orphaned at the age of five and placed into a number of   
foster homes. Actually, the child was in and out of foster   
homes with the frequency that most of us change our socks.   
He was considered one of the problem children, a loose   
cannon. By the time he was fifteen, he had a rap sheet as   
long as my arm."  
  
"A rap sheet?" Adam tried to poke through the American   
slang.  
  
"A police record. Richie spent a great deal of time in the   
Seacouver police department and at juvenile hall. Petty   
theft, burglary, breaking and entering, assault and   
battery, I'd have to say his most minor offense was   
underage drinking. Anyway, he dropped out of school, and   
fell through the cracks in the system."  
  
"Doesn't sound like it's a very good system," Adam   
muttered, his eyes glancing over the various police   
reports. It didn't sound like a very happy or pleasant   
life; it didn't excuse turning around and killing someone,   
but it certainly explained why someone might be bitter   
enough to do it.   
  
But, Adam reflected, the Richie that he met hadn't been   
bitter or hateful at all. He'd been relaxed and calm; too   
relaxed and calm for someone who had lived the sort of life   
that the General was describing.  
  
"People have been complaining about the social services   
system for years, Adam. It doesn't get them anywhere."   
General Damon snorted with some disgust. "But, you can't   
fix the wiring if you can't afford to pay the electrician."  
  
Adam glossed over a police report which depicted a rather   
surly faced youth in a bandana. Younger, but definitely   
Richie. "So, how does this Richie Ryan," Adam flashed the   
picture at General Damon, "become the Richie Ryan who dies   
in a motorcycle accident? And who is pretending to be a   
dead man?"  
  
"I'm getting to that." Again, General Damon leafed through   
some papers. "Back in 1991, Richie Ryan gets the brilliant   
idea to rob an antiques shop. Noel and MacLeod Antiques to   
be precise--Adam, what is it?"  
  
At the mention of the word antiques, Adam felt his heart   
constrict. The conversation from last night played over in   
his mind.  
  
_"He used to be an antiques dealer. He still purchases and   
sells antiques, so he had me drop a piece off to a dealer   
here in London."_  
  
"Richie mentioned antiques. He said he had a friend who   
used to be an antiques dealer. It just seems like a really   
strange coincidence."  
  
The General nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting. Because it's   
not coincidence."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
General Damon produced a picture, a black and white   
photograph. In it, a very attractive couple, a petite   
blonde woman and a dark haired man, smiled for the camera.   
"Tessa Noel and Duncan MacLeod. When you do a background   
check, it's sometimes helpful if you check out the people   
associated with your subject. Noel was a French national,   
living in Seacouver with MacLeod. They were never married,   
but they owned what must have been a very profitable   
antiques business, because MacLeod has a considerable   
amount of wealth."  
  
"Noel and MacLeod. That's the store Richie broke into,   
right?"  
  
"And that's where Ryan's luck changed. MacLeod and Noel   
never pressed charges. Instead, they took him in. He lived   
with them, he worked with them, he traveled with them."   
  
"Kind of like an odd sort of family?"  
  
"Probably the only family that Ryan ever knew."  
  
"What's wrong with that?"   
  
"Like I said, I did some checking on Noel and MacLeod.   
Tessa Noel was everything she appeared to be. A French   
national, a talented artist, and MacLeod's lover."  
  
Adam caught the use of the past tense. "You said was."  
  
"She was killed in a mugging about a year and half after   
she and MacLeod 'adopted' Ryan."  
  
Adam stared down at the grainy black and white again. This   
time his eyes were drawn to the woman, smiling and radiant,   
full of life and enthusiasm. It saddened him to think that   
a life that brilliant had been snuffed out so easily and   
purposelessly.   
  
"I know," the General spoke softly, echoing his thoughts.   
"That's how I felt. It really was a waste."  
  
"What happened then?" Adam was still staring at the   
picture; he was trying to reconcile the smiling woman with   
the dark images he received from Richie. There was no way   
that anyone with this woman's influence in his life could   
do anything that dark.  
  
"MacLeod sold the antiques shop. Moved back to Paris, took   
Ryan with him." General Damon gently tugged the photograph   
from Adam's hands, and handed him another police report.   
"MacLeod's the interesting one. His name has come up   
several time in police investigations."  
  
"What sort of police investigations?" Adam had a sinking   
feeling that he already knew.  
  
"Murder investigations. Homicides." The General sat back,   
clearly wondering if he should say more. Adam met the man's   
gaze levelly, calmly waiting. "You really don't want to   
hear anymore, Adam."  
  
"Yes, General. I do. I have to."  
  
"Duncan MacLeod was called in for questioning on a number   
of beheadings."  
  
-- The flash of a sword swinging through the air, slowly   
descending -- the flash of a face, staring upwards in   
resignation -- then brightness, lightening, a storm brewing   
-- sightless eyes staring upwards from a severed corpse --  
  
Adam blocked the remembered image. He noticed his hands   
were trembling and he clasped them together to still them.   
The calm of his voice actually surprised him. "Isn't that a   
bit grisly?"  
  
"A bit? It's very grisly. But it's not as uncommon as you   
might think." General Damon stood and crossed over to the   
water cooler. "All of the world, for years, at least since   
this sort of thing has been recorded, there seems to be a   
phenomenon of some sort of ritualistic decapitations."  
  
"You mean this is a normal method of killing people?" Adam   
was repelled.  
  
"Well, it doesn't happen everyday," General Damon poured   
himself a glass of water. "But it happens frequently enough   
to not be discarded as a random fluke. There are two   
schools of thought on the matter. One that it's some sort   
of cult or quasi-religious thing; two, that it's a very   
elite, very chameleon like crime organization--it would   
have to be to have branches all over the world.   
  
"I've studied the accounts, and I fall into the second   
school of thought. Particularly when most of those who are   
questioned fall into the same category with Duncan MacLeod.   
No blood relations, and a past so clean as to be   
unbelievable. Most of these people, even the victims, don't   
even have medical records.  
  
"Instead of the typical bullet to the head or drowning,   
this organization uses decapitation."  
  
Adam shivered and not from cold. He didn't want to ask the   
next question, but he had to. "How? Do they use swords?"  
  
The General paused, half-way between sitting in his seat.   
He made no attempt to hide the surprise that flashed across   
his features. "Adam, what exactly do you know about this?   
How do you know about the swords? What does this Ryan   
character have to do with the Tomorrow People?"  
  
"If it was some sort of criminal organization, then they   
would be able to change identities, right? Maybe even stage   
someone's death?" Adam ignored the General's questions. He   
was beginning to feel quite sick to his stomach. His only   
relief was knowing that Ami was spending the day with her   
mother and was no where near Richie Ryan, or whoever he   
truly was.  
  
"There are pictures in this report, pictures of the body.   
There is no way that was staged. He's dead. Whoever this   
person is, it's not Richie Ryan. But yes, an organization   
with the clout and power to stay hidden all these years   
could recreate an individual."  
  
-- The flash of a sword swinging through the air, slowly   
descending -- the flash of a face, staring upwards in   
resignation --  
  
"And that would make a pretty efficient assassin, wouldn't   
it?"   
  
"I want to know everything that you know about Ryan, Adam.   
And I want to know it now."  
  
Adam shook his head, standing. He had to talk to Ami. It   
was entirely possible that Richie wasn't a threat to her,   
but he couldn't afford to take any chances. "I'm sorry,   
General. I really have to go."  
  
"Adam--"  
  
"Good-bye, General." Then closing his eyes, he focused his   
mind and disappeared in a bright flash of light.   
  
The last thing he heard before he disappeared, was the   
General speaking into the intercom, "Frank. I need to see   
you. Now."  
  
End of Chapter Eleven  
  
******  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
Maris Keillor was an easy target. Following her was child's   
play, and Richie couldn't help but think that perhaps that   
was a bad sign. He stayed out of sensing range, so he knew   
she couldn't have sensed him, but it was entirely possible   
that she had glimpsed him from afar. Still, there was no   
other way to find out what she was up to and he didn't have   
anything better to do with his time anyway.  
  
Ami was spending the day shopping with her mother. While   
she hadn't sounded particularly pleased about the prospect,   
Richie got the idea that her mother wore iron gloves and   
that Ami bowed to the woman's whims more often than not. Of   
course, he found it hard to imagine Ami being argumentative   
with anyone-- well, aside from Megabyte-- something else   
that he found charming about her. Not that she would bend   
to his will, Richie was relatively certain that she had   
other ways of communicating her displeasure, but she   
wouldn't be the loud, shrieking, scene making type.  
  
He bit into the deli sandwich, lounging against the wall of   
the plain gray building. Across the street was World Ex   
Securities and Maris Keillor had disappeared inside about   
ten minutes ago. Richie had considered trying the "delivery   
boy" routine, but realized how risky it would be. At least   
from here, he could manage to stay out of range of her   
buzz, but inside the building-- he just might give himself   
away.   
  
There. He saw Maris's car pull out from the garage. Only   
now, a man was seated in the backseat with her. It was hard   
to tell from this distance, but there didn't seem to be   
anything particularly memorable about him. But the woman   
was on the move again.  
  
Richie tossed the last remnants of the sandwich into the   
trash, regretting the loss of those last few bites.   
However, he reminded himself, he had a job to do. He   
climbed on board the rented motorcycle, and donning his   
helmet, eased himself into traffic, following behind the   
sedan.  
  
******  
  
"Ami, you're a million miles away," Mrs. Jackson snapped   
her fingers in front of her daughter, grabbing the young   
woman's attention. "Whatever is on your mind today?"  
  
Ami smiled sheepishly. "It's nothing Mum."  
  
"Nothing, mm?" Mrs. Jackson folded her arms across her   
chest, eyeing her daughter speculatively. "This nothing   
wouldn't have to do with that American boy that you met   
would it?"  
  
"No, Mum. It doesn't have anything to do with him." Ami   
couldn't stop the smile that formed on her face as she   
thought of him, however. "And he has a name. It's Richie."  
  
"Richie. Richie. What sort of name is Richie? The next   
thing you're going to tell me is that he's in a rock band   
or something."  
  
"No. He races motorcycles." Ami lifted a forkful of salad   
to her mouth with a smug smile.   
  
"Motorcycles! Do you have any idea how dangerous those   
things are?"   
  
Ami shook her head and rolled her eyes, allowing her mother   
to follow another one of her "worried-about-my-baby-girl"   
tangents. It gave Ami a moment to focus her thoughts inward   
and concentrate on what was really distracting her.  
  
She really did wish that the only thing occupying her mind   
at that moment was a certain twenty-year-old blue-eyed   
American. Richie Ryan had been the last thought on her mind   
when she drifted off to sleep last night, and the first   
thing she thought about this morning. Which was odd,   
because Ami had always sworn to herself that she was not   
going to get all doe-eyed and weak-kneed over some boy.   
There were other things to worry about-- like school,   
classes and the Tomorrow People. Yet, she couldn't deny the   
warmth that she felt when she thought about Richie.  
  
But it wasn't Richie that preoccupied her thoughts at this   
particular moment. Something was wrong, dreadfully wrong   
but she didn't know precisely what it was. The others were   
fine, Adam was a bit distracted, but he was perfectly fine.   
He had mentioned wanting to talk to her this evening,   
without Jade and Megabyte, but that wasn't the source of   
her worry. It was unusual for Adam, but not enough to   
warrant the tight knot of fear that was developing in her   
stomach.  
  
Knowing the others were all right, she had taken a moment   
to call Richie. He was a bit sleep laden, explaining that a   
friend from the states had called him in the middle of the   
night, but again, there was no source for her worry and   
fear. They had made plans to meet tomorrow, and then she   
had allowed him to crawl back into bed.   
  
Then it happened. She felt a sharp prickling in her neck,   
almost like being jabbed with a needle. Crying out, she   
slapped her neck and jumped to her feet. "Ow!"  
  
"Ami--" her mother's concerned voice came to her down a   
long tunnel.  
  
The restaurant swam before her vision, blurring and fading.   
She gripped the sides of the table, steadying herself. She   
knew that these sensations were not hers, that they   
belonged to one of the others--  
  
[It's Megabyte,] Adam's telepathic touch on her mind gave   
her something solid to focus on.  
  
[Adam!] Megabyte's panicked cry was weak.  
  
An image followed the weak cry. Just a flash. A gun going   
off. And Richie; Richie falling with a pool of red in the   
center of his chest.   
  
"Richie," Ami whispered, her vision slowly beginning to   
clear. "Richie."  
  
[Ami. We need you.] Adam's voice was sharp and commanding.  
  
"Ami, what's going on?" Her mother demanded. People in the   
restaurant were turning to stare at them.  
  
[I'm coming, Adam.] She turned to her mother, putting a   
firm lock on her feelings, on the sickening fear she felt   
for Richie. "Mum, I have to go."  
  
"Oh no you don't. That Tomorrow People business will just   
have to--"  
  
"No, Mum. Megabyte's in trouble. I have to go." She turned   
and hurried out of the restaurant, fervently hoping that   
she wasn't too late.  
  
End of Chapter Twelve  
  
*****  
  
Chapter Thirteen  
  
Megabyte's appearance in the front hall caused his sister's   
dog to begin barking at him. He glared at it, "Shut up,   
mutt."  
  
Odd. No one came to see why the dog was barking. But then   
again, his mother and sister were on a shopping excursion   
and his father probably wasn't home. General Damon seldom   
had time in his busy schedule to devote a few hours to his   
family.  
  
"Dad?" Megabyte still called out his father's name   
tentatively.   
  
"In the office, Megabyte."  
  
The response surprised him. Well, if his father was home,   
maybe it meant that they would actually have dinner   
together tonight. Wouldn't that be a pleasant deviation   
from the norm?  
  
The Tomorrow Person froze in the doorway to his father's   
office.  
  
His father sat in front of the desk, handcuffed. Beside him   
was a woman with flowing red-hair and the most piercing,   
yet cold blue eyes Megabyte had ever seen. She wore a short   
skirted business suit, and looked like the typical office   
executive. Aside from the gun she had pressed to his   
father's temple. He was pretty sure that most his the World   
Ex employees didn't walk around threatening their superiors   
with guns.  
  
"So nice of you to join us, Marmaduke." The woman purred,   
her voice a mixture of various different accents, but   
mostly Irish.  
  
Megabyte calculated how quickly he could teleport to his   
father and get him out of the room.   
  
"Don't even think about trying your little disappearing   
trick. Unless you think that you can teleport over to your   
father, and teleport both of you away from here before I   
pull the trigger." She inclined her head towards the door.   
"And if you look behind you, you will see that I don't   
travel alone."  
  
Megabyte didn't have to look behind him to feel the cold   
steel of gun butt pressed against his neck. "Who--who are   
you?"  
  
"I'm the one with the gun. I'm the one who'll ask the   
questions."  
  
"Maris Keillor, Marmaduke. She worked with Mulvaney and   
Masters." General Damon supplied the answer to his son's   
question. "Apparently, she has decided to go into business   
for herself."  
  
The woman, Maris, glared at the General. "I always thought   
that Masters and Mulvaney never gave you enough credit,   
General. But then again, they never gave me or the Tomorrow   
People enough either."  
  
"So this is about me, then?" Megabyte cast a worried glance   
at his father. He wasn't worried about his own safety, but   
he had to get this woman away from his father. He thought   
about calling for the others, but if this lunatic was   
trying to catch the Tomorrow People, the less she knew   
about the others, the better.  
  
"Oh my, what a large ego we have, Marmaduke." She yanked   
the General to his feet, keeping the gun aimed. "This is   
about all of you. All four of you. I almost had the Jackson   
girl, but I encountered a little interference which caused   
me to alter my plans. But really, it does work out so much   
better this way. You'll understand that it's really nothing   
personal, but I really can't allow your group to live. It   
would be too dangerous to people of my nature and   
demeanor."  
  
Megabyte decided that the woman was a certifiable loon.   
Which meant that he and his father were in considerable   
more danger than he had originally thought. "You don't   
think you're going to use me as bait?"  
  
"I know that I am going to use you, and your father, as   
bait."  
  
"But why? I mean, you just told me that you're going to   
kill me, so why would I even cooperate?"  
  
"He's got a point, Maris." The General remarked. "I didn't   
exactly raise my son to be an idiot."  
  
"No, but you raised him to be weak, Damon. You're his   
daddy. And I've got a gun to your head." Maris nodded to   
her guards, "Let's get them out of here. And don't let the   
boy anywhere near his father."  
  
They were halfway to the front door when the woman came to   
a sudden and complete halt. All the color drained from her   
face and lifted her head as though expecting something to   
materialize out of thin air. Her posture and stance seemed   
to grow more rigid, and she glanced anxiously around the   
front hall. "I know you're there. You may as well come   
out."  
  
"Oh boy, is she gone," Megabyte muttered under his breath.  
  
"I know you're out there," the woman repeated. "And in case   
you can't tell, I have a man here who has a gun pressed to   
his temple. I will blow his head off. Now, show yourself."  
  
"So, why don't you let him go and pick on someone your own   
size?" the voice sounded vaguely familiar to Megabyte.  
  
The entire group turned to the right to see Richie Ryan   
step into the hallway.   
  
"Richie?" Megabyte's voice croaked. "What are you doing   
here?"  
  
"Hey, kid, relax with the questions. I'm not the one at gun   
point," Richie pointed out.  
  
"You're Ryan?" Megabyte heard his father's surprised   
question.  
  
Megabyte wondered how his father knew about Richie; and why   
he knew about Richie.  
  
"Enough talk." Maris ordered. "Frisk him." She stared at   
the American for a long moment. "You just don't learn do   
you, Mr. Ryan?"  
  
"I'm afraid I don't Miss Keillor." Richie held his arms up   
and allowed the guards to search his person. To Megabyte's   
amazement, the young man didn't even appear bothered by the   
search at gunpoint; nor did he seem to care when the guard   
removed a long metallic object from his coat. "Mac always   
said that I have a hard head."   
  
The object was a sword.  
  
"A sword," General Damon commented dryly.   
  
"A sword?" Megabyte shook his head. "You broke in with a   
sword."  
  
"Marmaduke, be quiet." The urgency in his father's voice   
surprised him.  
  
Instead of laughing at the sword, Maris handed the General   
to one of the guards and took the sword in her hands. "If   
either Damon or his son even sneezes, shoot them."  
  
"We won't be much use to you dead, Maris."  
  
"I didn't tell them to kill you, Damon. I told them to   
shoot you." The woman held the sword out and admired it.   
Her voice purred as she ran her fingers along the blade.   
"English broadsword. It's a marvelous weapon, do you weld   
your sword with skill and expertise, Mr. Ryan?"  
  
"I've never had any complaints."  
  
Megabyte felt himself blush at the only slightly couched   
innuendo.  
  
"Mac? Would that be Duncan MacLeod, Ryan?"  
  
"You know him?"   
  
"Was he your teacher or something?"  
  
"Hey, when only the best will do--"  
  
"Then it would really be a shame to have to kill you. You   
see, Duncan and I were very old, very close friends." Maris   
circled Richie with the sword, running the blade lightly   
across his torso. "I would really hate to upset Duncan."  
  
"Well, then it's a good thing that I don't plan on letting   
you kill me." Richie eyed her. "Um, Mac never mentioned   
you, by the way. He couldn't have been that impressed."  
  
In a flash, she pressed the blade against his throat.   
"Don't tempt me, boy. You've gotten in my way twice. I   
don't know what your game is, but it's a very foolish one,   
and you are a very foolish little boy. I don't want your   
head, so if you stay out of my way, you'll get to keep it."  
  
"Hey, lady, no arguments there. I kind of like it where it   
is myself." Richie's eyes darted to the blade then back to   
her. "But, um, maybe you could just tell me why you want   
the kid and his dad? Oh, yeah, and why you were trying to   
take out Ami?"  
  
Megabyte blinked. He couldn't have heard right. He started   
to say something, then remembered his father's warning. But   
whatever was going on right now-- it was weird. Normal   
people didn't talk like this; normal people didn't carry   
around swords as their only protection either.  
  
"Does she mean something to you, Ryan?"  
  
"Does she mean something to you, Keillor?"  
  
"Enough talk." She turned to the guards and nodded. "It's   
time to take a trip. And it's time for a little nap. A   
shame that Mr. Ryan won't be joining us."  
  
The scene unfolded too quickly for Megabyte's mind to clear   
focus in on what happened. He felt a sharp pricking to his   
neck and his vision began to swim. At the same moment,   
Maris turned, and raising her gun, she pointed it at   
Richie's chest and shot. The young man stumbled backwards,   
a pool of deep red forming on the front of his shirt.  
  
Megabyte was losing consciousness. His dad was in trouble.   
Richie was hurt. [Adam!]  
  
Then he was swallowed up by darkness.  
  
End of Chapter Thirteen  
  
*****  
  
Chapter Fourteen  
  
The three figures materialized in the empty front hall of   
the Damon home. The door stood slightly ajar, the muted   
purple and pink of the sunset filling the opening and   
painting the hall in somber tones. The dog cowered under   
the table, whimpering. He gave a half-hearted bark at the   
sudden arrivals, but did not venture forward. A quick,   
cursory glance around told them that no one was home, and   
that Megabyte's assailants were gone.  
  
"Shh, Duke, it's all right." Jade knelt down, her voice a   
soft coo. She extended a hand to the frightened dog. "Come   
on Duke. It's all right. Come on out."  
  
While Jade tried to calm the dog, Ami and Adam looked   
around the front hall. Ami peered through the door into the   
empty yard. "No sign of anything or anyone."  
  
"Let's try to reach Megabyte," Adam suggested. "If he can   
answer us, he may give us some clue as to where he is."  
  
"And if he can't?" The dog nuzzled Jade's hand. Her voice   
quavered and Duke gave a little whimper.  
  
"We have to try, Jade," Ami told her.   
  
The youngest Tomorrow Person nodded in agreement, rising   
from where she had been petting the dog. She was half   
stooping, half-standing when all the color drained from her   
face. "Adam--"  
  
Adam turned, a sickening feeling rising up in his stomach.   
He had a feeling that he didn't want to see whatever Jade   
was seeing. He followed her line of vision, noticing for   
the first time the few drops of blood in the front hallway.   
Steeling his stomach, he stepped over in that direction,   
Ami and Jade right on his heels.   
  
"Stay here," Adam cautioned them, stepping into the room.  
  
Though he steeled himself, the sight still took him by   
surprise. His heart lunged and his stomach clenched, and he   
fought to hang onto his lunch.  
  
The mysterious American known as Richie Ryan lay on the   
floor on his back. The front center of his shirt was   
stained a dark, deep maroon red. His skin was deathly pale,   
and he was eerily still.   
  
"Richie!" Ami's cry from behind him was strangled. Her   
emotional reaction was so powerful that Adam had to slam   
his mental shields tightly in place to not echo her horror   
and sorrow.   
  
"Oh, no, Richie." Jade's cry was no less surprised, and the   
girl seemed to teeter between crying and fleeing.   
  
Adam took a deep breath and slowly approached the body, his   
mind already working over the puzzle. Who, or what sort of   
sick person would kill Richie Ryan, and leave his body   
while taking Megabyte and the General?  
  
Tentatively, trying to ignore the gaping hole in Richie's   
blood-soaked shirt, and the blood-soaked shirt itself, Adam   
searched for a pulse in the neck. He knew the effort was   
futile-- Richie Ryan had been dead the moment Megabyte sent   
them that flash. It surprised him that skin so pale was   
still warm to the touch; he hadn't been dead long enough   
for all of his body heat to escape.  
  
He could feel the tension from Jade and Ami, and an   
overwhelming sorrow that no doubt came from Ami. Adam felt   
a bit of sorrow himself; he didn't trust Richie, and he   
didn't like what he'd learned about him, but he certainly   
didn't like finding him dead in the Damon home.  
  
Slowly, he stood, glad to turn his eyes away from Richie's   
lifeless body. "We're going to have to call the police. We   
can't do anything."   
  
Adam took Ami in his arms, giving her a hug before he said   
more. "I'm sorry, Ami. There's nothing that we can do."  
  
"I'll go call the police," Jade turned, more than likely   
intending to flee the grisly scene, but she collided right   
into Frank, the General's aide. "Frank!"  
  
Frank stared into the room over the heads of the Tomorrow   
People. "What happened here?" Adam noticed the man was   
strangely detached for someone who was staring at a dead   
body in the middle of the Damon family living room.  
  
"We don't know," Adam supplied quietly. Ami was crying   
softly on his shoulder; he hadn't quite realized how   
attached his friend had gotten to the young American in   
just two days. Or maybe she was just crying over the   
futility of it all. It certainly didn't seem important now   
to mention the General's file on Richie Ryan. "Megabyte   
called us, but when we got here--" Adam let his words trail   
off.  
  
"I'm going for the police," Jade explained. Adam noticed   
she kept her eyes carefully away from the living room.  
  
As she slid past Frank, the man grabbed her arm. His tone   
was more firm and commanding than Adam had ever heard. "No   
one is calling the police. No police, no doctors."  
  
"But he's--" Jade gave a glance at Ami. Adam had to admire   
the younger girl's compassion for her friend. She lowered   
her voice. "He's dead."  
  
"I can see that he's dead, Jade, but we can't bring the   
police in." Frank stepped forward, ushering, Adam and Ami   
out of the room. "Listen to me very carefully. If you trust   
me, if you've ever trusted me, trust me now. No police."   
Frank glanced anxiously at the dead body. "Hopefully, in an   
hour or so, you'll be able to understand why.  
  
"Now, do you trust me?"  
  
Adam exchanged a wary glance with Jade. He felt Ami shift,   
and she pulled away wiping her eyes. After a few wipes, she   
faced Frank, her eyes darting between him and Richie's body   
behind him.  
  
[Adam?] Jade asked tentatively.  
  
[It's up to Ami, Jade. Richie was her friend.]  
  
Finally, after an extended silence, Ami nodded. "All right,   
Frank. We trust you."  
  
Adam tried to contain his shock.  
  
Jade didn't do so well. [I didn't think that you would say   
that.]  
  
[It's just a feeling I have. Somehow, I think Frank knows   
more than he's telling us.]  
  
Now, why didn't that surprise Adam?  
  
End of Chapter Fourteen  
  
******  
  
Chapter Fifteen  
  
The pain that pierced his awareness was sharp, grating. He   
felt every nerve impulse in his body fire at once, he felt   
every cell shift. He felt the intense heat of the bullet   
piercing his heart; the fiery explosion from within. The   
air going into his lungs was cold fire, shocking and   
piercing, forcing him to gasp. His body trembled as   
awareness of itself and its unity returned. Slowly the   
world began to coalesce and reform, memories began to whirl   
and take shape--  
  
The kid, his father, and Maris Keillor aiming the gun at   
his chest. Too late he tried to back away; his reflexes   
were too slow.  
  
"How do you feel?" the voice was unfamiliar, wary even.  
  
Richie slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position,   
ignoring the stinging and itching of his chest as his body   
worked to heal itself. Dying hurt like hell; he was   
beginning to think that reviving hurt more. He looked   
around, taking in what was obviously a living room. A   
family portrait on the wall told him that it was the Damon   
living room. However, a cursory glance around was all he   
allowed himself. He had to find out what was going on.  
  
"It's amazing, you know." The voice was still speaking. "I   
never did get used to seeing that."  
  
Richie turned to face the source of the voice. A dark   
haired, spectacled, non-descript man was watching him with   
mixed curiosity and wariness. Richie scooted an inch or so   
away from the man. "Who are you?"  
  
"Frank," the man extended a hand. "Frank Addleman. I'm   
General Damon's assistant."  
  
Richie took the hand tentatively, shaking it with some   
reluctance. Frank had a firm grip. "Okay, Frank, what the   
hell is going on, and why aren't you running scared?"  
  
"What's going on is that you were killed, Ryan. Point blank   
in the chest with a gun." Frank indicated Richie's stained   
shirt with a wave of his hand. "Probably by Keillor or one   
of her goons. Keillor escaped with my boss and his son in   
tow."  
  
"And the second question?"  
  
"I know what you are. I know about Immortals."  
  
"How?" Richie was instantly on guard, ready to bolt for the   
door. He made a quick glance at the man's wrists, looking   
for a familiar trefoil tattoo. Instead, all he saw was the   
scar of a burn-- or the scar of a tattoo removal. "You used   
to be a Watcher?"  
  
"Technically, I still am." Frank settled back on his   
haunches, giving Richie space. He almost seemed to sense   
that the young Immortal had gone into fight or flight mode.   
"However, working for World Ex, the tattoo would have   
attracted notice. I had it removed. Mostly, I keep an eye   
out for Immortals and Hunters in high places; try to keep   
tabs on them. I'm not really a field agent or a historian;   
I'm an information person."  
  
"Why are you telling me all this?" Richie didn't know if he   
liked this. "Don't you know the rules?"  
  
Frank winked. "We have a mutual friend. I was trained by   
one of the best-- Joe Dawson."  
  
"Joe knows about you?" It seemed a stupid question, but   
Richie was not about to trust this guy. Not any further   
than he could throw him.  
  
"Joe knows about you. He knows you're in London. And he   
knew you were looking for Maris Keillor. He asked me to   
keep an eye on you. Then when the General did your   
background check, I got a little worried. I hadn't been   
expecting that so I hadn't planned for it."  
  
"Background check?"  
  
"Yes, you wouldn't know about that." Frank scratched his   
chin idly. Then, as if suddenly remembering, he reached   
behind him and tossed Richie a clean shirt. "There's a wash   
room down the hall on the right. Get cleaned up. We're   
going to need your help to find the General, Marmaduke and   
Maris."  
  
Richie glanced from the shirt to Frank in growing   
confusion. "Why should I trust you? I've never even seen   
you before, and for all I know you might be a Hunter."  
  
"I might. But I'm the only reason Cory Lyle isn't on a   
morgue slab downtown right now." Frank shook his head,   
standing. "And if I wanted you dead, you would be dead   
right now.  
  
"You can find us in the kitchen when you're presentable."  
  
"You keep saying 'us' and 'we.' Who?" Richie decided that   
he really had no choice but to trust the man. He had to   
find Maris--before she hurt that smart mouth Megabyte, or   
went for Ami again.   
  
"Some mutual friends." Frank left the living area, leaving   
Richie to ponder the implications of that alone.  
  
******  
  
Adam looked up expectantly as Frank re-entered the kitchen.   
For the past thirty minutes, the man had been promising   
them answers, but he had delivered none. The first ten   
minutes he spent on the telephone to the States, talking in   
hushed tones to someone named "Joe" about Richie. Whatever   
happened during that conversation, Adam could tell that   
"Joe" didn't give Frank a very good reception. Most   
recently, the man divided his time between the kitchen,   
where the Tomorrow People drank soda and stared at a bag of   
potato chips, and checking on Richie's body in the living   
room.  
  
Adam wondered why the man kept checking the body. It was   
almost as though he expected it to get up and walk away.   
  
Like that would happen, he could almost hear Megabyte's   
sarcastic response.  
  
Thoughts of his friend, missing and unconscious, reminded   
Adam of why they were there. "Frank?"  
  
Frank took a seat at the table. "We should be ready in just   
a few minutes. I have to tell you kids, though, you're   
going to be in for a very big shock."  
  
"I don't think things can get anymore shocking," Ami   
whispered softly, staring down at the kitchen table.   
  
Jade reached out and gave her friend's hand a squeeze.   
  
"Hey, all right, all right!" The voice from the hall caused   
all three Tomorrow People to look up in surprise. The   
accent sounded like-- but no, it couldn't be.  
  
"Who's here?" Jade called tentatively, exchanging a   
frightened glance with her friends.  
  
Adam would have shared her concern, but he was watching   
Frank. And Frank didn't seem the least bit alarmed. Good,   
maybe it means someone's here to answer our questions.   
First, we need to know who grabbed Megabyte and the   
General--  
  
All rational thought flew from Adam's head as the   
impossible happened. Richie stumbled into the kitchen,   
trying to stop Duke from jumping on him and licking his   
face. He glanced over at the Tomorrow People with a wide   
grin, "Does anyone know how to control this beast?"  
  
"Richie!" Ami and Jade cried out in unison, nearly over   
turning the table as they jumped up.   
  
"You were dead. We saw you. You were dead." Adam wondered   
if his face was as pale as Ami's and Jade's.  
  
It must have been because as Richie raked his blue eyes   
over the group, and he registered Adam's words, his smile   
began to fade. By the time that gaze rested on Frank it was   
rather dark and somber. "Great, you didn't tell them, did   
you, Frank?"  
  
"You were dead," Ami echoed Adam's words.  
  
With a disgusted sigh, Richie grabbed a chair and turned it   
backwards, straddling it. "Yeah, I get that a lot."  
  
End of Chapter Fifteen  
  
******  
  
Chapter Sixteen  
  
Richie seriously wondered how sick and twisted Frank's   
sense of humor was. After he sat down, with three sets of   
curious, disbelieving, and somewhat wary eyes on him, and   
had gotten a cup of coffee, Frank quickly recapped what the   
three teenagers had told him. No, that wasn't precisely   
correct. Frank told him that they had found him there dead,   
probably not long after Maris left. Richie didn't know how   
or why the three happened to be there; and Frank didn't   
elaborate on how they had known Megabyte was in danger.   
Frank wrapped up the story with convincing them to not call   
the police and wait for understanding.  
  
Understanding that Richie was no doubt supposed to deliver.  
  
Richie looked from one anxious face to the other, and   
finally focused his attention on Adam. It was pretty clear   
to him that both Ami and Jade looked to Adam as some sort   
of leader or big brother figure. And besides, it was easier   
than seeing the wariness in Ami's dark eyes. "I'm Immortal.   
I can't die. I can't be killed, at least not by an   
convential methods."  
  
"That's impossible," Jade objected, then turned five   
different shades of red. Richie could almost read the   
thoughts on her face: of course, it wasn't impossible--  
Richie was living proof.  
  
"No, it's not. I can be shot, or drowned or burned, but I   
won't really die. My body will just heal itself and revive   
me." Richie explained slowly, carefully. He wondered how   
Mac handled giving this explanation. "I heal rapidly, so   
even broken bones and internal bleeding aren't a problem."  
  
Still noting their disbelief, Richie sighed. He glanced   
over at Frank and motioned to the knife by the man's hand.   
"Could I see that knife, Frank?"  
  
Blinking in confusion, Frank handed him the knife.  
  
"What are you going to do with that?" Ami asked quickly.   
Something about the tone of her voice told Richie that she   
had a pretty good idea of what he was going to do with it.   
Still, this would go a lot faster, if they weren't stuck in   
that tunnel of nonbelief.  
  
"Proof." That was all he said. Then taking a deep breath,   
and bracing himself, he sliced up his arm. It stung and   
burned, and he winced in pain. There really had to be a   
better way of proving this.  
  
"Are you nuts?"  
  
"Why did you cut yourself?"  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
The three voices bubbled over one another, with the three   
teens standing.   
  
"Sit and watch," Richie ordered. He could already feel the   
itchy, tickling beginnings of healing as the tendon and   
muscles knit themselves.  
  
The tone of his voice froze them in place. Richie watched   
their faces while the familiar blue sparks of energy worked   
their way up the cut, leaving his arm unscathed. He wiped   
away the drying blood with a napkin, and held the arm out   
to their astounded faces.   
  
"That must be pretty handy," Adam remarked thoughtfully.  
  
"Not exactly." Richie took the knife over to the sink and   
began to wash it. He could feel their eyes on him. "I still   
feel pain."  
  
"Then why did you do that?" Jade's voice was heavily tinged   
with undertones that said she was beginning to have doubts   
about his sanity.  
  
Richie turned to face them, leaning against the sink. "I   
figured that you needed some proof. To know that my   
surviving that gunshot wasn't just a fluke."  
  
"So, you can just live forever? You don't ever die?" Ami's   
voice was like music to his ears.  
  
Oh, yeah, like you stand a chance with her now. Dying just   
doesn't do it for impressing the girls, Ryan. And neither   
does slicing your arm open at the kitchen table.  
  
"Well, I can be killed."  
  
"Decapitation," Adam said the word softly. "You can be   
killed by decapitation."  
  
Richie stared at him, feeling slightly ill. He noted that   
Frank also looked to the young Australian with surprise.   
"How did you know that?"  
  
Adam kept his eyes averted. "I asked the General to do a   
background check on you--"  
  
"Adam you didn't!" Ami's indignation rang through the   
kitchen.  
  
Adam couldn't even make eye contact with her. "And there   
were some things in your file about decapitations."  
  
There was something that the Australian was not telling him   
as well. Right now, Richie decided not to worry about it--  
besides he got the feeling that Adam was going to get an   
earful from Ami when this business was all done with.  
  
However, he understood the young man. Or at least he   
thought he did. He nodded in Adam's direction. "I wouldn't   
worry about it, Ami. I'm sure Adam was just looking out for   
you. A strange American--"  
  
"Right." Ami didn't sound very convinced.  
  
"What about the decapitations?" Jade asked. Some fear crept   
into her voice now.  
  
Richie shifted awkwardly. This was going to be the hardest   
part to explain. "I'm not the only Immortal. There are lots   
of us. Everywhere. The woman who grabbed your friend is one   
of us."  
  
"You mean there are people all over the world who can't die   
unless you--" Jade stopped in midsentence. Clearly, that   
concept didn't settle too well with her.  
  
"Right," Richie agreed. "Since forever, or as long as   
Immortals have been alive, we've been fighting for the   
Prize. It's said that in the end there can be only one.   
Only one Immortal."  
  
"You kill each other?" Adam asked the question with some   
fear and disgust.  
  
"Since the dawn of time, it seems there have been Immortals   
on the earth, Adam." Frank took over the conversation.   
"They live, they breath and they survive, and occasionally   
when they come together they fight; they fight because they   
are taught to fight. They are taught to fight for the   
Prize. They live by a certain code, and must honor certain   
rules, and they only fight in private and with swords.  
  
"Some are good, some are evil. Some enjoy killing. And   
some, like Richie, are simply trying to survive the Game."  
  
"The Game?"   
  
"It's a really lame way of describing our eternal battle,"   
Richie muttered. "Whoever coined that phrase had a really   
sick sense of humor."  
  
"When two Immortals meet and fight," Frank continued,   
giving Richie a glare, "they fight to the death. The winner   
takes the losers head and with it his power; his   
Quickening."  
  
"It's not a medical procedure, Frank." Richie muttered.   
"You make it sound like it's all fun and games, and it   
isn't."  
  
"What's a Quickening?" Jade asked.   
  
Richie wondered if it was his imagination, or if these   
three teenagers were truly trying to wrap their minds   
around this and accept it.  
  
"It's our life force, I guess. Our experience." Richie   
explained. "Every one has a little Quickening, but it's   
stronger in Immortals. It's so strong that we can actually   
sense one another. We call it the buzz, and I guess it's a   
good warning signal."  
  
"That must be what we sense," Ami remarked softly.   
"Quickening. It must make the psychic aura stronger."  
  
It was Richie's turn to quirk an eyebrow in confusion.   
"What was that?"  
  
"This Quickening," Adam gave Ami a cautionary glance and   
turned his attention to Richie. "What's it like?"  
  
"A first class pyrotechnics show," Richie sighed. "And it's   
not exactly a carnival either."  
  
Adam nodded as if Richie's words had somehow confirmed   
something he had been thinking.  
  
"How do you become Immortal?" Jade seemed to be at no loss   
for questions.   
  
"We're born this way. We don't know who our parents are,   
we're all foundlings." Richie crossed the kitchen and   
returned to his chair. That was good for the dog which   
placed its head in his lap. He absently scratched behind   
its ears. "We age, get hurt, get sick just like mortals   
until the first time we actually die. That seems to turn on   
our Immortality. After that, we don't age anymore, we're   
pretty much frozen at the age we died."  
  
"You were young," Ami remarked softly.  
  
Richie had to smile. "I'm not that old yet, Ami."  
  
"How old are you?"  
  
"Twenty-three." Richie said the words softly. "I was   
nineteen when I became Immortal. I'm pretty much an infant   
as far as the Game. I've known Immortals hundreds of years   
old."  
  
After that revelation, a silence descended. He noticed that   
the three teenagers exchanged glances, and seemed to be   
having some unspoken conversation. The only sound was the   
thump-thump-thumping of the dog's tail against the floor.   
  
Finally, three sets of eyes turned to him.  
  
"Well, I guess it's our turn now," Adam announced. "We have   
a bit of a secret of our own."  
  
Richie stared at the three expectantly, waiting.  
  
"Richie Ryan, we're the Tomorrow People." Ami stood,   
exchanging a quick glance with her two friends.  
  
Richie cocked an eyebrow. Were they trying to tell him they   
were some sort of rock band? "The Tomorrow People?"  
  
"I think you should just show him, Ami." Adam smiled, and   
Jade giggled.  
  
Richie didn't know whether to be worried or excited. The   
next moment however, he didn't know what to think at all. A   
field of energy crackled and formed around Ami, and he was   
vaguely aware of the hairs on his arms rising from the   
static in the air. The field brightened, and with a flash   
of bright light and a displacement of air, the young woman   
disappeared.  
  
He nearly jumped out of his skin when she leaned over his   
shoulder a moment later. "You're not the only one with an   
interesting talent."  
  
"I guess not."   
  
End of Chapter Sixteen  
  
******  
  
Chapter Seventeen  
  
"Wow," Richie commented once they had finished their story.   
"So, I guess seeing a guy come back from the dead wasn't   
that out of field for you guys?"  
  
"To say the least," Adam laughed.  
  
"Look guys, this is really wonderful," Ami looked around   
the table, her eyes resting particularly longer on Richie   
than anyone else. Somehow knowing the life that he led,   
forced into it and not choosing it, made him seem more   
vulnerable than even the Tomorrow People were. It was odd,   
to think of someone who carried four feet of steel around   
for protection as vulnerable, but she did. "But we really   
have to find Megabyte and the General."  
  
"Right," Adam agreed. "Richie, you were here last. What can   
you tell us? Did you see or hear anything?"  
  
Richie shook his head. "No. I still don't even know why she   
grabbed Megabyte and his father and I spent the whole day   
following her around." Richie paused. "You guys can't   
contact him with telepathy?"  
  
"We haven't tried, guys. Not since we got here," Ami looked   
from Adam to Jade. "It can't hurt."  
  
"Right," Adam nodded. The three of them stood, and holding   
their palms up, barely touching they closed their eyes.   
  
For one moment, Ami wondered what Richie must be thinking,   
but she had only a brief moment for the fleeting thought,   
before her mind joined with Adam's and Jade's and they   
began searching for Megabyte's familiar psychic signature.  
  
[Megabyte? Can you hear us?]  
  
They were met with dead silence, the silence of sleep or   
unconsciousness.  
  
Adam shook his head, breaking the link. "No. He's   
unconscious. He can't answer us."  
  
"You can tell that he's unconscious?" Richie asked.  
  
"We're connected," Jade explained. "We're always aware of   
one another. We can always tell if someone's hurt or sick   
or unconscious or whatever."  
  
"So much for privacy," Richie muttered.  
  
"We've grown rather accustomed to it," Ami settled back   
into her seat. "It's a lot like background noise."  
  
"So what do we do now?" Jade looked from Adam to Ami and   
back again.  
  
"Maybe nothing," Frank commented.  
  
Four sets of eyes rested on the General's aide.   
  
"We know that Maris Keillor wants something. And it's a   
very good possibility that what she wants is the Tomorrow   
People. She probably intends to use the General and   
Marmaduke as bait." Frank poured himself another cup of   
coffee from the pot in the center of the table. "And that   
means that either she will be contacting you, or she will   
have Marmaduke contact you as soon as he's awake."  
  
"But if she lets him wake up, what's to stop him from   
teleporting away with the General?" Jade asked.  
  
"The last time I saw Megabyte and his father, Jade, the   
General had a gun to his head." Richie spun a spoon in a   
circle on the table. "I don't know how that teleportation   
stuff works, but are you willing to bet money on your   
teleporting being faster than a bullet?"  
  
"No, I guess not," Jade admitted rather glumly.  
  
Ami saw the shadow flicker across Richie's face. He looked   
genuinely injured; he probably hadn't meant to speak so   
bluntly. She was pretty sure that he was more accustomed to   
speaking to people who had a great deal of experience with   
violence.   
  
His next words only confirmed her suspicions. He reached   
out and patted Jade lightly on the arm. "It's okay, kid.   
We'll find Megabyte and his father."  
  
Normally, Jade objected to being called "kid" or "squirt"   
or anything in between. But in this case, she just gave   
Richie a half-hearted smile.   
  
"Yes, but how do we find them?" Adam asked. "We don't even   
have any leads."  
  
Richie turned his attention to Adam, a slow, sly smile   
forming on his face. "Well, my friend Mac always taught me   
to stay one step ahead of my enemies. So, it's time we got   
one step ahead of Maris Keillor.  
  
"And Frank and I have a mutual friend who might just be   
able to give us the extra step that we need."  
  
End of Chapter Seventeen  
  
********  
  
Chapter Eighteen  
  
Consciousness crept up on Megabyte with the stealth of a   
thief. His eyes opened first, squinting against the pain   
that the dim lighting of the windowless room provided. He   
was aware of something underneath him, aware of the fact   
that he was lying on his back, a dirty, cobweb ceiling   
hanging over him. His mouth felt as though he'd eaten a bag   
of cotton balls and the muscles of his neck were taut.   
  
Memories came with consciousness. His arrival home, the   
barking of Duke. And his father, his father in handcuffs   
with a gun pressed to his temple. The woman with the   
velvety red hair -- the sound of a gun, the sight of the   
red blood on Richie Ryan's chest--  
  
Megabyte forced himself to shut off the memories and   
blinked in the dimness several times. He had no idea where   
he was, or what was going. All he knew was that he was   
probably in a great deal of danger, Richie Ryan was   
probably dead, and he needed to contact the others. As his   
eyes began to adjust to the light, he sat up. Too quickly.   
The room shifted suddenly, as did the sudden rush of pain   
to his head. He groaned, lowering his head into his hands.   
The throbbing of his head banished all thoughts of trying   
to contact the others telepathically at the moment.   
  
"Oh, good, you're awake." The velvet smooth voice drifted   
to his ears. "I was beginning to think that Sean had given   
you far too large of a dosage."  
  
Megabyte peered at her through parted fingers. It was her.   
The woman with the flowing mane of red hair and eyes as   
blue as the sky on a clear summer day. He might have even   
thought she was beautiful if she hadn't been staring at him   
like a laboratory specimen while she filed her nails with a   
dagger. If she hadn't threatened his life, his father's   
life and killed an innocent bystander in cold blood.  
  
Okay, so he didn't have a clue what Richie was doing there.   
Maybe the guy wasn't exactly innocent, but he didn't   
deserve to be killed. Megabyte hadn't liked him much; he   
hadn't liked the way Ami seemed to lose her wits around   
him, but he hadn't wanted him dead. On the quickest plane   
to Seacouver, yes. But not dead.  
  
"Whatever," Megabyte croaked. He looked around the room,   
noticing the one guard. "Where's my dad?"  
  
The woman, Maris he thought her name was, rose and brought   
him a glass of water. He hadn't even noticed the water   
pitcher by her feet until she began filling the glass.   
Megabyte took it hesitantly, staring cautiously into the   
clear liquid.  
  
"Oh, please, Marmaduke. I hardly think that I would waste   
my time giving you drugs in water," Maris chastised him.   
"It's perfectly drinkable. I know those drugs tend to make   
your mouth feel like drier than the desert. And I need you   
capable of communicating with me.  
  
"As for your father, he's fine. And he'll be fine as long   
as you cooperate. Which means, don't even think about   
contacting your friends just yet."  
  
Megabyte took a long drink of the water, taking in his   
surroundings. She didn't have to worry about the telepathy   
thing. Megabyte had the feeling that a telepathic whisper   
would feel like boisterous yelling inside his skull at the   
moment. Besides, it wouldn't do any good to contact the   
others until he knew where he was and what was going on.   
  
"So, who are you really?" Megabyte lowered the glass. "And   
what do you want with me?"  
  
The woman returned to her seat, folding her legs, one knee   
over the other. She poured herself a glass of water, and   
took a thoughtful drink while studying him. Finally, she   
leaned back, and gave him a smile that made his blood   
congeal. "My name is Maris Keillor. I was born in 1371 in   
the village of--"  
  
"Yeah, right." Megabyte nearly lost his grip on the glass.   
This woman truly was a raving lunatic. His sarcasm was the   
only thing that covered his fear. He could handle power-  
hungry scientists and politicians; he could handle   
fanatical cults. Raving lunatics who thought they were   
hundreds of years old probably were the most dangerous   
types. "Like that could happen."  
  
"I'm Immortal, Marmaduke. I can not die."  
  
"No offense, lady, but everybody dies." Megabyte gave a   
quick glance at the guard. The man didn't seem affected at   
all by her raving. Of course, he was probably used to it.   
He was probably even paid to believe and encourage her.  
  
"There are hundreds like me in the world. And eventually,   
when only one of us is left, that one shall rule the   
world." Maris shifted, placing her water glass on the   
floor. She toyed with the dagger, twirling it between her   
fingers. "Unfortunately, this means that there is either   
room for your kind or room for my kind. We can't both rule   
the world, Marmaduke. Seeing how I'm the one who's   
Immortal, and mortals die so easily, guess who loses?"  
  
Yep, the woman most definitely was not playing with a full   
deck.  
  
"You don't believe me, do you?"  
  
"Sure. I believe that you're five hundred years old and you   
won't ever die. Right."  
  
"Six hundred and twenty-seven come summer."  
  
"You look good for a six hundred year old woman."  
  
"And you are an impertinent, rude boy who doesn't seem to   
realize how closely his father's life hangs in the   
balance." Maris snapped. She stood, crossing the room until   
she stood directly in front of him, the dagger still   
gleaming in her hand. "Watch and know that you have no way   
out, Marmaduke Damon."  
  
With those words, she sliced a fairly large rip up her arm   
with the dagger.   
  
Megabyte recoiled. He watched the blood swell up out of the   
cut, the dark, deep blood of arterial blood. He averted his   
eyes, his stomach clenching. A million questions formed in   
his mind as he realized just precisely how out of touch   
with reality this woman was.  
  
"Look," Maris demanded.   
  
Her free hand, the one attached to the uncut arm, gripped   
his chin and turned his face. She forced him to stare at   
the wound, the wound that didn't seem to bleeding very much   
at all anymore.  
  
No, that was impossible. People killed themselves like   
this. Sliced straight up the arm, and the blood would just   
keep pumping.   
  
But there was no more blood. The initial rush still covered   
her arm, and some of the floor, but the wound was no longer   
bleeding. In fact, as he watched, his face held painfully   
in her grip, the cut began to heal right before his eyes.   
The muscle and skin knitted itself together, a small   
lattice of blue sparks and electricity shooting through the   
open wound. The streaks worked their way down the cut until   
not a scar remained.  
  
Megabyte trembled as the implications of what she had shown   
him came to light. "What are you?"  
  
"I told you, I'm Immortal. And my kind will rule this   
earth. Your kind, will not live long enough to stop us."  
  
This time Megabyte didn't reply with his usual sarcasm. He   
stared at her, feeling his heart clench in fear.  
  
This time the Tomorrow People might have encountered   
something that they really couldn't handle.  
  
*** End of Chapter Eighteen  
  
Chapter Nineteen  
  
"The place looks like it should be condemned," Jade   
commented.  
  
Three Tomorrow People, one Immortal and Frank stood on a   
hill overlooking a deserted factory. The Tomorrow People   
had finally heard from Megabyte, and using the strength of   
his telepathic signal and a mind-merge at the spaceship,   
had been able to trace him to this location. He had been   
able to tell them about their enemy: Maris Keillor. She was   
obsessed with the Game and with the mistaken idea that   
those like the Tomorrow People would eventually overcome   
Immortals. Megabyte didn't entirely believe her story of   
Immortality, nor did he understand her rambling about "the   
Game" but after a long talk with Richie, the others did.   
And they realized that Maris Keillor was a great threat.   
Perhaps an even greater one than Galt or Masters had ever   
been.  
  
"Yeah, it looks like something right out of a bad movie,"   
Richie noted. "Just the sort of place you expect a   
homicidal maniac to hide out in."  
  
Adam glanced over at the Immortal. Richie's words were, in   
light of the circumstances, oddly ironic. After all, Adam   
was certain that a great many people would consider all   
Immortals homicidal maniacs. Of course, looking at Richie,   
Adam was once again struck by the fact that the American   
didn't look like a danger or a threat. He didn't look like   
the sort of person who could weld a sword with skill and   
expertise -- or kill with the same skill and expertise.   
  
But Richie could -- he wouldn't be alive right now if he   
couldn't. His youthful face could fool someone into   
thinking he was exactly what he seemed to be-- a rash and   
reckless youth. The close observer would notice the other   
signs that signaled he was something more. These same signs   
that had set off warning signals for Adam; and Ami,   
although she was loathe to admit it. There was a certain   
hardness to his eyes, a certain wisdom that could only come   
from years of danger and dealing with things that others   
could only imagine. In Richie's case, a constant battle in   
which he knew his participation might lead to his death. He   
was killer, no doubt about it; but he also had a heart.  
  
It was a chilling dichotomy. It was even more chilling when   
Adam took into consideration the fact that Richie was on   
their side. He was one of the nice guys in the play for   
power that "Immortals" called the Game.  
  
The idea itself still sent Adam's mind in circles, and he   
made a note to talk to Richie more about it once Megabyte   
and the General were safe. And he had to believe that they   
would be safe.  
  
"You didn't have to put it exactly like that," Jade   
muttered.  
  
Richie flashed her a boyish, charming smile. "Sorry, Jade.   
I didn't mean it to sound so-- well-- "  
  
"Frightening?" Ami volunteered. "Impossible?"  
  
"It's not impossible," Richie objected, leaning against   
Frank's car. The General's aide had insisted on   
accompanying them, although the man had a pretty clear   
indication that he wouldn't be able to stop or control   
them. "We have a plan."  
  
Jade wasn't convinced. "Maris Keillor has a plan too,   
remember?"  
  
"Yeah, well, if you're lucky, you guys won't run into   
Maris."   
  
"I still don't like this, Richie." Ami stared at the   
Immortal, arms folded across her chest. If the situation   
hadn't been so grim, Adam might have laughed at the look   
she gave Richie. It was one he had seen Mrs. Jackson direct   
at Ami quite often.   
  
"If you guys want to get the kid and his dad, you need a   
distraction." Richie didn't seem to be able to meet her   
eyes. Adam thought that was interesting. Whatever the   
dynamic between Richie and his fellow Tomorrow Person, it   
would be interesting to watch when this was all over. "I am   
very good at being distracting."  
  
"But what if you run into her? Then what?" Something   
shifted in Ami's eyes, a mixture of worry and fear. Adam   
could feel the emotion radiating from her.  
  
"Ami, I'm not going in there to challenge Maris." Richie   
gripped her by the shoulders, a lopsided grin on his face.   
"I can hide with the best of them. She'll be so busy trying   
to find me that you guys should have no problem getting the   
kid and his dad out of there.   
  
"I'm a survivor, don't worry about me."  
  
Adam wondered how many years it had taken Richie to polish   
that charm of his. He could visible see Ami backing down.   
  
"Be careful," Ami cautioned him.  
  
"Hey, I'm always careful," Richie winked. Then he turned on   
his heel and sauntered down toward the factory as if he was   
simply going to buy lunch.  
  
"Yeah," Jade whispered as he disappeared down the hillside,   
"But what if Maris challenges you?"  
  
It was a thought that none of the Tomorrow People wanted to   
contemplate.  
  
End of Chapter Nineteen  
  
******  
  
Chapter Twenty  
  
Six hundred years old she was, but she certainly didn't   
spend much time keeping up with technology. Then again,   
Richie mused as he carefully inserted a small file   
underneath the window and the sill, making contact with the   
wire contact, this was a short term operation. Maris   
Keillor probably didn't plan on having need of this   
building very long. Who needed sophisticated machinery when   
you only planned to use the premises for an execution   
ground?  
  
The thought chilled Richie's blood. He hadn't liked the   
sound of it when the Tomorrow People reported what Megabyte   
was telling them, and he didn't like the sound of it now.   
He still could not fathom how the woman thought a group of   
teleporting teenagers would be a significant threat to   
Immortals and the Game; significant enough to warrant   
killing them all off. Yes, they were pacifists, but in   
Richie's opinion, that was a good thing. There weren't   
enough pacifists in the world--that was the problem with   
the world.  
  
He wiggled the file a bit more and felt the catch. He heard   
the soft sighing which told him he had made contact to   
successfully fool the alarm system. Richie laughed softly   
to himself; Mac and Tessa had given him the world and shown   
him a better life, but moments like these reminded him that   
no "talent" ever went to waste.  
  
"Richie."  
  
Ami's clear, crisp voice beside him nearly caused him to   
leap out of his skin as she materialized from thin air.   
Richie nearly lost his grip on the file, sucking in a   
lungful of air and trying not to fall over backwards.   
  
"Ami, what are you doing here?" Richie grabbed her wrist   
and pulled her down into a squatting position behind him.   
He kept his voice low, a trifle annoyed. Not because she   
had slipped up on him so easily, but because he wondered   
what would have happened if it hadn't been him she   
teleported in beside. "And don't you guys have some kind of   
warning system?"  
  
She smiled apologetically. The smile made his heart skip   
and also made it incredibly difficult to chastise her-- or   
to even consider it. "Sorry, Richie. But we thought that   
someone should stay close to you. In case you need help."  
  
"Ami, you really don't want to stick close to me." The   
words conveyed far more than he actually said. He had taken   
some additional time to explain to the Tomorrow People the   
rules of the Game, and the often time necessity of   
fighting. He didn't want to fight Maris, but if it came to   
that…well, he would prefer that none of them, particularly   
Ami, saw it.  
  
"But what if she shoots you again?"  
  
"We have rules." Richie turned back to the window, making   
sure his re-route was still in place.  
  
"What if she doesn't follow them? Richie, you said it   
yourself, not all Immortals are the good guys. And some   
don't follow your rules." Ami's voice was clear, collected.   
If there had been some challenge to it, or some worry, he   
might have found a reason to argue with her. As it was she   
was being far too logical.   
  
"And what are you going to do if she does kill me again?"   
Turning his head, Richie met her eyes and the cool logic on   
her face. It was a bit unsettling actually, to realize that   
this eighteen-year-old kneeling in the dirt beside him had   
dealt with enough danger to approach this with such   
calamity.  
  
"Teleport you out, of course."  
  
"Ami." Richie stopped. He had seen that look before. He had   
never seen it on Ami, but he did know that look. It was the   
look of resolve and determination. It was a look that no   
amount of arguing could erase. Richie switched gears,   
taking her hand. He kept his voice soft, "It's too   
dangerous. If Maris doesn't want to play by the rules, you   
could get caught in the crossfire. You could do a lot more   
good with Adam and Jade."  
  
"Richie, I'm already caught in the crossfire. Remember?   
That was me she was aiming that rifle at?"  
  
"Are you always this stubborn?"  
  
"We have to be." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "A lot   
of people seem to want to protect us."  
  
"Just promise me that you'll teleport out if things get   
hairy?" He hoped that his voice didn't sound quite as   
desperate and pleading as he thought it did. He was sick   
with fear that something might happen to her; that might   
get hurt, or even worse killed. He would never, ever   
forgive himself if that happened.  
  
"I promise," she agreed much more quickly than he had   
expected.  
  
He held onto her hand a moment longer before letting go and   
turning back to the window. "I suppose I did all this work   
for nothing. I mean, you can just teleport in there right?"  
  
"All what work?"  
  
"Fooled the alarm system." Richie flashed her a smile.  
  
"How did you--"  
  
"Well, before I had the pleasure of living forever and   
having people come after my head with swords, I was in a   
much less risky profession."  
  
Ami tilted her head questioningly at him. "That was?"  
  
"Petty thief."   
  
The surprise on her face almost made up for the fact that   
he felt like the Tomorrow People were trying to baby-sit   
him.  
  
Almost.  
  
*** End of Chapter 20  
  
Chapter Twenty-One  
  
Megabyte never thought he would be as happy to see anyone   
as he was when Adam and Jade materialized in his holding   
cell. He jumped up off the narrow cot, and called a low   
greeting. He was excited, but not stupid. There was a guard   
outside his door, and he didn't want to attract the guard's   
attention. "Adam, Jade."  
  
He quickly switched to telepathy as he saw them preparing   
to answer. [There's a guard outside my door. Maris doesn't   
exactly trust me. Did you find my Dad?]  
  
[No,] Adam replied with a shake of his head. [We were   
hoping that you could help us with that.]  
  
[I haven't seen him since I got here. I talked to him on a   
radio, but that was about it.] Megabyte paused, [He's   
alive. And Maris won't hurt either of us until--] The boy   
did not finish the thought.  
  
[Until she has all four of us,] Adam finished it for him.   
  
[We're not going to let that happen, Megabyte,] Ami's voice   
brushed his mind. [There's a corridor on this side of the   
building. It's pretty well guarded. Richie thinks that the   
General might be down there.]  
  
Megabyte raised an eyebrow at Adam. What was Richie Ryan   
doing here in the middle of all this? He could believe that   
the young man was still alive but certainly not well enough   
to be running around this old building with the Tomorrow   
People.   
  
[Richie's Immortal too,] Jade supplied the information   
quickly.   
  
"He's--" Megabyte forced himself to not speak aloud. Ryan   
was like Maris. What was going on around here. [He's just   
like her?]  
  
[No, he's not just like her,] Jade snorted. [Richie's nice.   
He's on our side.]  
  
[Megabyte, later,] Adam promised. [Right now, we have to   
find your father.]  
  
That was an objective that the young American could not   
argue with.  
  
****  
  
Ami released the breath that she hadn't known she was   
holding as Richie returned to her side. He had been   
attempting to get closer to the corridor, to verify that   
the General was there. She thought his behavior was   
reckless and risky, even for someone who knew the bullets   
in the guards' guns couldn't kill him.   
  
"Did you tell them?" Richie whispered, leaning back against   
the wall. It was clear that he still had some difficulty   
accepting their telepathic abilities. Teleportation, yes.   
But not telepathy -- after all, you couldn't see telepathy   
at work.  
  
"They'll be here soon," Ami nodded. "Megabyte needed a bit   
of convincing that you're one of the good guys."  
  
"Why aren't I surprised?" Richie muttered.  
  
"Well, you did show up in his house with no explanation."  
  
"And I got shot for it, thank you very much." Richie   
sighed, peering back around the corner. "Ruined a good   
shirt for that kid and he doesn't even appreciate it."  
  
"Are you always like this?"  
  
Richie's eyes met hers in the dim light of the factory. He   
had beautiful eyes; as blue as the summer sky, playful and   
mischieavous. Ami immediately felt ridiculous and stupid,   
noticing his eyes at a time like thise. The General was in   
danger, Megabyte was in danger, and she was behaving like a   
twelve-year-old with a crush on her Composition teacher.   
  
He seemed ready to answer her, then Ami watched as a new   
look came over his features. He stiffened, rising partially   
out of his crouch. The same eyes that mesmerized her only a   
breath before began scanning the corridor, wide and   
haunted. If tension could be visible, then Richie was the   
definition of it. He was suddenly wary, his eyes narrowing   
shrewdly. The figurative cat preparing to stalk.  
  
"Maris is close," Richie told her quickly, grabbing her   
hand. He pulled her to her feet, roughly, dragging her down   
the corridor behind him. The light hearted warmth had   
vanished from his voice, his words and tone crisp and   
professional. Briefly she felt a brush of fear and concern   
from him, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.  
  
"What about the others, and the General?"  
  
"Ami, I've got to keep moving. I'm the decoy, remember?"   
Richie pulled her behind a pallet of tall barrels. "You can   
stay here and wait for the others, but I've got to distract   
her."  
  
Ami shook her head. "No way. I'm coming with you. You might   
need me." Ami spoke a great deal more boldly than she felt   
at the moment. But she couldn't forget that the woman had   
shot Richie once-- and threatened his life. What was to   
stop her from shooting him again and making good on her   
threat?   
  
Richie glared at her. There was no other way to describe   
the look on his face. It was a glare of parental disdain.   
"Yeah, I need you to get killed. I don't think so. The ride   
ends here, Ami. This is where you get off."  
  
"Richie, I've been in dangerous situations before."  
  
"Not like this, you haven't." The American stared at her   
and she held his gaze. Finally, he nodded curtly. "Fine.   
Just remember, you promised to teleport out of here if   
things get hairy."  
  
He turned then, stalking up the next corridor.  
  
Ami followed quickly on his heels. "Define hairy."  
  
He paused in mid-stride, releasing a low groan. "Now, I   
know how Mac felt all those years." Then he gripped her by   
the elbow and pulled her along side him. "Are you Tomorrow   
People always this stubborn?"  
  
"Sometimes. Most times."  
  
"Great," Richie grumbled. "Just perfect."  
  
"Are Immortals always this surly?"  
  
"Only when we're babysitting Tomorrow People."  
  
Ami shook her head. Try as he might, Richie Ryan was not   
about to upset her and get rid of her that easily. He might   
be able to come back from the dead, but they were all in   
this together. "At least we pay well."  
  
The Immortal did not have an answer for that.  
  
*** End of Chapter Twenty-One  
  
Chapter Twenty-Two  
  
She was close. Every cell in his body cried out in warning,   
every physiological alarm rang inside of him. Richie could   
sense her ~Presence~, he knew that somewhere in the belly   
of the dark factory Maris Keillor lurked and waited.   
Pressed against the wall, he reached into his coat and   
slowly withdrew the broadsword. It made a slight whistling   
sound as it brushed against the lining of his coat.  
  
"Richie." Ami's voice quivered. "They found General Damon.   
They're teleporting--"  
  
Guided by instinct and by the image of her which burned so   
deeply in his mind, Richie raised his hand and covered   
Ami's mouth. Even he could barely hear his low, rough   
whisper. The time for their playful banter had passed. This   
was real, this was serious. It was time for him to have a   
word with Maris. "Quiet. I can sense her."   
  
"We can go now." As far as Ami was concerned their job was   
done; it was time to go home. But his job was only just   
beginning.  
  
Richie spared her a glance. Her eyes were wide with   
anxiety, alternating between his face and the sword that he   
held like a second arm. It was an extension of him, one   
that he could neither ignore nor deny. "She's not going to   
let you walk away, Ami. None of you. I've got to talk to   
her."  
  
"With that?" The dark eyes indicated the sword.  
  
"If I have to. It's what I am," Richie shook his head. He   
didn't have time to explain. Not here and not now. "Go. Get   
out of here."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"I'm a survivor." He recognized the look on her face. He   
had seen it on Tessa's face numerous times. He was certain   
that his own had often mirrored that particular fear   
mingled with panic and hurt. It cut into his heart far more   
deeply than he thought anything ever could.   
  
Richie grazed her cheek with his fingertips. "I'll be all   
right. Wait and see. Remember, you promised."   
  
Then he kissed her quickly on the cheek and disappeared   
into the depths of the factory before she could speak   
another word. To his relief, Ami did not follow.  
  
He had to do this. He had to talk to Maris. He had to learn   
what insanity drove her to this -- this revenge.   
  
"Maris?" Richie's voice echoed hollowly in the factory.  
  
"Hasn't anyone ever told you that little boys shouldn't   
play games with the bigger children?" She separated from   
the shadows like a wraith. The fluorescent lighting of the   
factory made her skin seem even more pale, her head a crown   
of red. Blue eyes glittered darkly from the pearlesent   
face. "I was hoping that it would not come to this. I could   
show you such pleasures, Richie Ryan."  
  
"I don't want to fight you, Maris."  
  
"Is that why that sword is in your hands?"  
  
Richie glanced at the sword, then at the Immortal across   
the room. "I was hoping that you might see reason and leave   
the Tomorrow People alone."  
  
"Are you their champion now?"  
  
Richie shrugged. "Maybe."  
  
"They are a scourge Ryan. They will overcome us, and they   
will destroy all that we are. They are an abomination and   
must be destroyed."  
  
"They're gone, Maris. They've escaped."  
  
"I'll find them again." The sound of metal striking against   
a scabbard rang across the room. The long sword flashed in   
her hand like a beacon. "But first, I'll have to take care   
of you."  
  
"I don't want to fight you."  
  
"Too bad."  
  
She was on him in an instant.  
  
******  
  
"Where's Richie?" Adam looked up expectantly at Ami as she   
appeared in the clearing on the hilltop.   
  
"He's -- " Adam noted her slight pause, the tension near   
her mouth as she spoke. "He's looking for Maris."  
  
"Who's Richie?" General Damon looked from one Tomorrow   
Person to the other. "And why is he looking for Maris   
Keillor? That woman is a killer."  
  
Ami turned her gaze to the factory, her soft response   
carrying on the wind. "So is Richie, I suppose."  
  
"Who is Richie?" General Damon demanded again. "And Frank,   
get the police. I want that woman picked up--"  
  
"Richie Ryan, General." Adam cut in smoothly, his eyes   
still focused on Ami. He could feel his friend's pain, her   
worry, and her frustration. He was worried himself.   
Whatever Richie Ryan was-- he was on their side, and he had   
helped them. And most importantly, Ami cared a great deal   
about the Immortal and what happened to him. "He's looking   
for Maris."  
  
"And we can't call the police," Frank added.  
  
The General looked from Adam to Frank. It was quickly   
evident that he didn't know what exactly to make of Adam's   
information or Frank's words. "Richie Ryan is dead. I saw   
him take a bullet wound to the chest. Now, someone had   
better start doing some explaining. And I mean fast.  
  
"What exactly has been going on while Megabyte and I were   
being held hostage by a mad woman?"  
  
"It's a long story, General," Frank supplied crisply.   
"Perhaps we should talk about it elsewhere."  
  
Jade shook her head. "I think we should wait for Richie. I   
mean, he helped us right?"  
  
Ami kept her eyes focused on the distant factory. Her words   
chilled Adam's blood. "It might not make much difference,   
Jade. It's started."  
  
Only the General and Megabyte had to wonder what Ami was   
talking about. Adam knew, and his heart broke for his   
friend.   
  
And for Richie Ryan.  
  
******  
  
Steel rang against steel, as Richie brought his sword up in   
defense, easily parrying the initial lunge. Again, Maris   
lunged and again Richie parried, but the attack was so open   
and frontal that it pushed Richie back a step.  
  
He balanced himself quickly, defending against three more   
quick, inside attacks. A swipe across his arm, too close,   
too quick. Richie winced from the sting even as his body's   
rapid and natural healing began to close the wound. He   
backed up again, placing himself out of range of the other   
sword.  
  
"What's the matter Ryan? Can't you hit a girl?" Maris' eyes   
glittered like ice that froze his blood, as Richie circled   
her warily. "Your head is mine."  
  
Richie took the first opening. He moved in sharply, drawing   
blood with one hit before the woman could properly block   
his attack. The attack left him open, and his opponent   
closed in, attempting to regain control of the duel. Richie   
continued to back off, luring her towards him, all the   
while hoping that the Tomorrow People were all far, far   
away by now.  
  
Once upon a time, the open frontal attack Maris continued   
to launch would have weakened him and signaled his defeat.   
But Richie had learned from his errors; he had learned from   
dying numerous times with Mac's sword in his chest or   
abdomen that sometimes a risk had to be taken; sometimes   
the moment of opportunity came only when the defenses were   
lowered.   
  
Richie knew that it was time to call upon opportunity.   
Lowering his defense, he came in low and sharp, feeling the   
sharp jerk of the weapon as his mark hit home. Almost at   
once, the woman gasped, stepping backward as a dark red   
stain began to spread across her snow-white sweater.   
"That's for killing me earlier."  
  
Maris looked at her blood soaked hand, and tightened her   
grip on her sword. "First blood. I'm impressed."  
  
"You ain't seen nothin' yet."  
  
Richie circled his opponent, occasionally dropping his   
defense to reach into any opening. He took a few cuts for   
it, but nothing that didn't begin to heal almost before he   
truly felt the pain. The clash of steel rang throughout the   
factory. Closing in, her eyes wild with desperation, Maris   
left her lower inside undefended. It was the opening Richie   
had been waiting for. He allowed the woman to lunge,   
feeling her sword slice through his thigh, sending a   
thousand ripples of pain through his leg. He cried out. He   
cried out even as in the same moment his sword sank up to   
the hilt in her abdomen, her eyes widening in amazement.  
  
"I told you that you hadn't seen anything yet." Richie   
yanked the sword from the Immortal and the woman sank to   
her knees. Richie panted, his breath coming hard and sharp.   
His mind only now registered the sharp and biting aches   
where she had scored hits; he could feel the beginnings of   
healing, but the pain was still real. She cowered before   
him, her head lowered, and he brought his blade to rest   
against the skin of her exposed neck. "Walk away, Maris.   
Don't make me do this."  
  
Slowly her head turned, the cold ice of her blue eyes   
eating into him. "Let me walk, and I swear I'll slit each   
of their throats. They don't deserve to live. They are   
unnatural."  
  
"So are we."  
  
"But we are meant to rule the world."  
  
"No. We're not. They are."  
  
"Have you ever seen a mortal bleed from a throat wound,   
Ryan? It's beautiful. Kill me, because I won't stop until I   
kill them, your precious Tomorrow People."  
  
"Then, I guess there can be only one." Richie raised the   
sword, and with a silent prayer, the killing blow fell.  
  
*******  
  
From the hilltop, six pairs of eyes watched in amazement as   
the lower floor of the factory filled with an eerie,   
pulsing bluish light. Almost in slow motion, each of the   
lower windows began to blow outward, one after the other,   
and the faintest tentacles of lightening reaching beyond   
them.  
  
"What the--" General Damon's eyes widened, his voice   
constricting.  
  
Frank whispered one word. The word was a curse; the word   
was a blessing. The word was a warning and a cry of hope   
mixed with trepidation. It was a word that made Ami turn   
away to hide her tears, and made Jade lower her head, her   
own eyes misted.  
  
It was a word that made them all afraid.  
  
"Quickening."  
  
*** End of Chapter Twenty-Two  
  
Chapter Twenty-Three  
  
Richie trembled in the wake of the Quickening, kneeling on   
the floor of the factory some distance from Maris' body.   
The last tendrils of power swept over him, making every   
sense and every nerve intensely and acutely aware. He   
panted, drawing in deep, ragged breaths. The aftermath of   
the Quickening was always the worse. The sensations it   
created were intoxicating; pleasure mingled with pain,   
reminding him of the gift and curse of Immortality.  
  
He forced himself to his feet, guided by some inner   
instinct. The battle had been met, joined and won. It was   
time to vacate the premises before the authorities arrived.   
With any luck, Frank would have contacted the Watchers and   
they would be here to clean up any loose ends. Whatever the   
case, it was no longer his concern. His concern was   
escaping. His concern was protecting himself. And maybe--in   
a few days, his concern would be seeing that Ami and the   
remainder of the Tomorrow People were all right.  
  
Richie moved stealthily through the factory, retracing his   
footsteps and chiding himself for any desire he had to   
check on the Tomorrow People. Because he knew it wasn't the   
Tomorrow People-- it was a particular English flower with   
coffee eyes and dark skin. He had to know that Ami was all   
right; that she would be all right. Even if it was the   
stupidest, most ridiculous thing that he could do.   
  
She could never accept what he was. It was completely   
opposite to her nature. And he could never stop being what   
he was. The wisest thing to do would be to head back to his   
hotel, pack up and catch the next plane out of London.  
  
Then again, Richie hadn't always been known for being wise.  
  
Twilight was falling as he left the factory behind. He   
glanced in the direction of the hill, wondering if he   
should head in that direction.   
  
No, the Tomorrow People and Frank should be long gone by   
now.   
  
He would make it on foot; he'd done it before.  
  
He barely had the time to notice the bright flash that   
appeared in the middle of his path, barely had a moment to   
catch his breath or brace himself before a figure collided   
with him.   
  
"Richie," Ami wrapped herself around him, her head resting   
against his chest.  
  
Reflexively his arms wrapped around her, and he held her   
close, resting his cheek against the top of her head. He   
could feel the slight tremors of her body, he could hear   
her soft sobs as she buried her face in his chest. He   
stroked her hair, his voice low in her ear. "I'm all   
right."  
  
"I was so afraid," her words were choked with ragged sobs.  
  
"I'm all right," he repeated, tightening his hold on her.   
They were completely incompatible, and from two very   
different worlds. But all that mattered at that moment was   
holding her, soothing her, and knowing that she was fine.   
  
The rest he decided to worry about later.  
  
******  
  
General Damon sat silently while the pieces of the puzzle   
slowly fell into place. He had to admit, the story that the   
Tomorrow People and Ryan told him was unbelievable. Men and   
women who lived forever unless you decapitated them was   
about as viable a story as teenagers who could teleport.   
And, Bill Damon supposed, that was why he believed it. That   
and the fact that the evidence couldn't be ignored. He had   
been at a few of the scenes of an Immortal duel; he had   
seen Ryan dead, shot through the heart; and he had seen the   
Quickening rippling through the deserted factory.  
  
It was hard for him to reconcile the vibrant young man   
lounging on his family room sofa with a sword-wielding   
killer. Richie Ryan, frozen at the age of nineteen, didn't   
look out of place among the Tomorrow People. Outwardly, he   
appeared no more dangerous than the Tomorrow People,   
laughing and talking easily with them. For all appearances,   
he looked the part-- a nineteen-year-old tourist,   
completely taken with his new friends, and completely   
enraptured with Ami.  
  
General Damon wondered if any of the other Tomorrow People   
had noticed that particular complication.  
  
"So, what will you do now, Richie?" General Damon eased   
into the conversation. "Stay in London?" The thought of   
that happening made the General long for the bottle of   
antacid tablets he kept in his desk drawer. Ryan may look   
young and innocent, and he certainly was charming, but he   
was dangerous. He may have turned out to be one of the good   
guys, but he was as deadly as the English broad sword he   
carried. The thought of the young Immortal spending too   
much time near the Tomorrow People worried Damon a great   
deal.  
  
Richie glanced at him, but only briefly. His blue eyes   
seemed to drift back toward Ami of their own accord. "Maybe   
for a few more days. I have to go home sometime."  
  
"The sooner the better," Megabyte muttered.   
  
Damon gave his son a sharp glare, grateful that only he was   
close enough to hear the words. But he also felt guilt as   
he turned back to the youngsters in the room, missing   
whatever comment Jade made to set the others laughing.   
Guilt, because as he watched Richie take Ami's hand, he   
couldn't help but echo his son's sentiment.  
  
The sooner the better. One thing the Tomorrow People did   
not need was Immortals.   
  
The sooner the better.  
  
*** End of Chapter Twenty-Three  
  
Chapter Twenty-Four  
  
It was time to move on. Richie knew this, had been telling   
himself the same thing for the past two weeks, but it   
hadn't helped him to put his feet into gear and leave   
London behind. Every day he told himself that he would stay   
only another day or two; every day for the past two weeks   
he had told himself that. He didn't even think that he was   
listening to himself anymore.   
  
The truth was that Richie didn't want to leave London. He   
didn't want to leave her. It was complete and total   
foolishness and he knew it. There was absolutely nothing he   
could do for Ami Jackson-- except put her life in danger.   
The Tomorrow People had an even bigger secret to protect   
than Immortals did; namely because there were probably far   
too many Immortals out in the world who thought like Maris   
Keillor. And those who wouldn't want the Tomorrow People   
dead would want to use them for their own twisted purposes.   
His presence acted as a beacon, calling attention to them.   
  
He should have been on the first plane to Seacouver the   
moment he had Maris' Quickening. He should have headed   
straight to the airport and never looked back.   
  
But then again, Richie had never been known for doing what   
he should do.  
  
But this was it, Richie decided. He had called the airport   
this morning. The ticket had been reserved and paid for   
before Ami, Adam and Jade showed up at his hotel, before he   
had a chance to change his mind when he looked into Ami's   
dark eyes again.  
  
Besides, Richie kept telling himself, she was eighteen. She   
was a kid. Too young for him, and he was too old for her.  
  
And that was why he'd been finding excuses to stay in   
London for two weeks.   
  
No, he couldn't even believe his own lies.  
  
Still, it was definitely time to move on. He was beginning   
to get too comfortable here, too comfortable with the   
Tomorrow People. He had his life to lead, and they had   
theirs. And their lives were far too different for them to   
keep company for very long. He was a killer; like it or   
not, he was definitely a killer. And they were -- they were   
the hope for a better world of tomorrow. Not the greatest   
combination.  
  
Saying goodbye was going to be the hardest part. Not just   
to Ami, but to the others as well. Even to Megabyte, who   
for all his sarcasm and indifference had actually managed   
to grow on Richie as well.  
  
"You're leaving." Adam sat beside him on the park bench.   
The young Australian watched his fellow Tomorrow People   
kicking a soccer ball back and forth between them.  
  
Richie nodded. Adam had never been one lacking in   
perception. "You don't seem shocked."  
  
Adam shrugged. "I knew you would eventually. We all did. It   
was just a matter of when." Turning to Richie, Adam studied   
the Immortal for a moment. Although the look lasted only a   
heartbeat, Richie felt like Adam had seen to the depths of   
his soul. "We like you Richie. Even knowing that you are   
what you are, we like you. It's nice to know that there are   
still some good guys left in the world."  
  
"You think I'm a good guy?" Richie's gaze challenged him.   
"General Damon seems to think that I'm an armed and   
dangerous killer, and you think that I'm a good guy?"  
  
"If you had a choice, would you do it?"  
  
The question confused him. "Would I do what? Be Immortal?"  
  
"Would you kill? If you had a choice, would you be a part   
of the Game?"  
  
"Hell no," Richie didn't even think about the question.   
Once, he had envied Duncan MacLeod's Immortality. That had   
been before his own death, before he started carrying a   
sword, before he began to carry the faces of those he   
killed in his memory. Just fights or not, every kill   
haunted him. He carried a part of every one of those   
Immortals with him; even Maris.   
  
"I wanted it once, but--" Richie shrugged, letting the   
sentence hang unfinished.  
  
Adam nodded as if the Immortal's words had confirmed   
something he was thinking. "Then you are one of the good   
guys. It's just a matter of perception. Everyone perceives   
things differently."  
  
Without waiting for a response, the Tomorrow Person rose   
and joined his friends in their soccer match.  
  
Richie sat back against the bench and watched. Maybe all of   
life was just a matter of perception. Maybe, in a world   
where everything was not simply black or white, people like   
the Tomorrow People did see him as one of the good guys.  
  
And maybe there was hope for the world yet.  
  
End of Chapter Twenty-Four  
  
*********  
  
Chapter Twenty-Five  
  
Richie hated good-byes. He really had hoped to leave London   
without lengthy good-byes, but when he heard the knock on   
the hotel room door that morning, he knew that was not to   
be the case. The Tomorrow People, his newfound friends, had   
come to see him off. Even Megabyte was in attendance, but   
Richie had gotten the feeling that the young man was more   
than happy to see Richie Ryan leave London once and for   
all.  
  
They had each said their bit, wishing him a safe trip, and   
inviting him to return. Then, one by one, they disappeared   
with bright flashes of light until only Ami remained. She   
had been silent and watchful the entire time, allowing the   
others to speak to him while she stood safely in the   
shadows. Now, Ami stood a few feet away, hands shoved into   
the back pockets of her jeans. She watched him expectantly,   
through partially lowered eyes, rocking slowly on her   
heels.  
  
"I guess this is it," Ami remarked quietly.   
  
Richie cursed silently. This was going to be the worse. A   
part of him wished that Ami had left with the others; a   
part of him was happy that she stayed. Slumping against the   
wall, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and forced   
a smile. "Yeah, this is where I came in at."  
  
"Maybe you'll get back someday. See some more of London."   
  
And more of each other. Richie knew they both thought it,   
but neither of them said it.   
  
"Maybe. I travel a lot, so you never know." He shrugged.   
"And if you ever get to Seacouver, look me up."  
  
"If I'm ever there, I will Richie." She smiled and he   
wondered if it was biologically possible for a heart to   
melt. "There can't be that many Richie Ryan's in Seacouver,   
can there?"  
  
Richie chuckled. "I never took a census or anything, but I   
figure that I'm sort of unique and one of a kind."  
  
"You are," Ami agreed.  
  
"Yeah, well, so are you."   
  
They stared at one another in an uncomfortable silence.  
  
Finally, Ami sighed. "I'd better go. And you have a plane   
to catch."  
  
"Right. I wouldn't want to miss my flight." Richie leaned   
down and picked up his bag and the sword case. His taxi   
wouldn't wait forever, anyway. Slinging the bag over his   
shoulder, he crossed over to where she stood. "Take care of   
yourself, okay? All of you guys. You're all really special.   
So try to stay out of trouble. I mean, I'd be really upset   
if I found out something happened to you -- guys."  
  
"Right," Ami nodded. "You take care of yourself too. I   
mean…just be careful."  
  
"Don't lose my head?" Richie volunteered, with a bright   
smile. "Don't worry, I happen to like it where it is, and   
don't plan on letting go of it anytime soon."  
  
"That's good to know."  
  
Staring down at her, Richie felt the all too familiar lump   
working its way into his throat. The one that made it hard   
to breathe and cut off any and all rational thought. How   
she'd managed to have that effect on him in just the span   
of a few days, Richie would never know. He would never even   
be able to guess. He wondered if this is what Mac felt the   
first time he saw Tessa. If it was, he was beginning to   
understand Mac and Tessa's relationship a lot more than he   
ever had before.  
  
He realized at that moment that he might never see her   
again. There was a very good possibility that he wouldn't   
see her again.   
  
He didn't like how much that thought frightened him.  
  
But what frightened him even more was the damage he would   
do if he remained.   
  
He leaned forward, intending to brush his lips across her   
cheek and make a quick retreat, but it didn't happen that   
way. As he leaned, she turned her face ever so slightly, so   
that his mouth brushed softly against hers. Nothing more   
than that; just a light touch against her mouth, but enough   
to make his catch his breath. Enough to make his heart   
pound painfully. Enough to make Richie realize exactly how   
tempting it was to remain in London. More than enough to   
tell Richie Ryan that he was falling in love with this   
young woman.  
  
Correction, he had already fallen in love in with her.  
  
Richie hugged her, wrapping his free arm around her back.   
He didn't trust himself to speak, so hugging her seemed the   
next best thing. This was the reason he'd been in London   
for two weeks too long; the young woman in his arms was the   
reason he hadn't been able to think clearly half the time   
that he had been here. The feelings she stirred up were   
maddening and chaotic, a sense of longing and devotion that   
he wasn't quite sure what to do with.  
  
But staying there was far too dangerous to her and to the   
Tomorrow People. He'd been over this territory already.   
Time and again, he'd held this conversation with himself.   
The Tomorrow People couldn't protect themselves against   
people like Maris Keillor. After all, they didn't carry   
swords, and while they may have been capable of some rather   
fantastic feats, coming back from the dead wasn't among   
them.  
  
"Ami," he whispered her name into her hair. He wanted to   
say something; anything to let her know how he felt. He   
wanted to let her know the reasons he was leaving, to let   
her know that it was for her own protection that he was   
walking away. Instead all he said was, "Take real good care   
of yourself."  
  
She raised her head, meeting his eyes. "I know, Richie. And   
I will."  
  
She knew. Of course, she knew. She was telepathic. He still   
wished that he could say the words.   
  
Richie nodded. "Probably next year, you know I'll be back   
in London. Mac goes to Paris once a year, so -- " He let   
the words trail off. He would never be back in London if he   
could help it; and if he ever were to return to London, he   
would probably be trying to keep his head and would   
definitely avoid the Tomorrow People. They both knew it.  
  
"Right," Ami agreed with a half-smile. Then she leaned up   
and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Have a safe flight."   
Then, before he could say another word, she slipped from   
his arms, and giving him a small wave, disappeared in a   
flash of light.  
  
Richie forced himself to take several deep breaths. He   
tried to ignore the knife twisting in his heart. He was   
doing them a favor. Both of them.   
  
It was a litany he repeated all the way to the airport.  
  
End  
  
  
  



End file.
